


Soft Touch Raw Nerve

by Mistofstars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Castiel, Bisexual Dean, Blow Job, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Drama, Fluff, Hand Job, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mushy, Romance, Sappy, Slow Build, Smut, Wooing, castiel - Freeform, destiel au, established sexuality, explicit scenes, happy end promised, physiotherapist!Castiel, reciting poetry, semi-canon until season 2, supernatural life, terrible attempts of humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 151,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistofstars/pseuds/Mistofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a hunt gone wrong, Dean has an injured leg; he has to stay in a rehab-center for the next six weeks, while Sam continues the hunter's life on his own. The only glimmer of light is Castiel, Dean's physiotherapist, and how they come closer to each other as time goes by. DESTIEL (semi-)AU   [COMPLETE!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author:** Mistofstars
> 
>  **Pairing:** Dean Winchester / Castiel
> 
>  **Warnings:** language, sappy, romance, drama, slow build, smut, semi-canon until season 2, AU, hurt, comfort, waff, fluff, sportive activities (really, I mean the sport, as in -sport-, eww), terrible attempts of humour, medical terms (with explanations, don't worry) and possibly inaccuracies about doctor's stuff (though I did some research), UST within the first chapters, reciting poetry (gross! I know)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Dean and Sam Winchester, as well as Castiel, John, Ash and Garth of Supernatural are not my invention – they belong to the writers and creators of Supernatural. No copyright infringement intended. I don't make money with this, all of it is made up.
> 
>  **Author's note:** The title of this fic derives from the same-named song of Depeche Mode. I want to thank Faith-Valconbridge aka fvalconbridge for her endless patience and her support, her kind words whenever I moan about this story and bend her ears via Skype. Thanks a lot, hun! You should really check out her stories hehe... My absolute respect and infinite thanks goes as well to Angelpheonixwings14, who beta-read(s) some chapters and makes really helpful suggestions and corrections. Her input is worth a million, and I laugh a lot when she points out my mistakes and tries to shorten / save my terrible-lengthy sentences. I'll never get the hang of commas, and all remaining mistakes you will find are my obstinacy to fix them or simply my ignorance. Please notice, this thing is still a work-in-progess, and I have to underline the slow-build-warning (aka pls have patience with me!)
> 
>  **Poems recited so far:** "I am not yours" by Sara Teasdale (chapter 5); "Touched by An Angel" by Maya Angelou (chapter 6); "To his coy mistress" by Andrew Marvell (chapter 9); "How Shall I woo thee?" by Paul Laurence Dunbar (chapter 9); "I know why the caged bird sings" by Maya Angelou (chapter 13).
> 
>  **Chapters written:** 23/?
> 
>  **Word count so far:** ~104 000 of?
> 
>  **Feedback?:** Highly appreciated

**\--- Xxx Soft Touch Raw Nerve xxX ---**

**Chapter 1**

It happened in the depths of a spring's Saturday night, in the middle of nowhere. Neither Sam nor Dean were prepared for such an incident, though they had made enough arrangements for the interrogation. As it became apparent they wouldn't get acceptable results, they expelled the demonic creature, and that was where it all went wrong.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas", Sam said, trying to speak distinctly. They were exorcising the umpteenth demon, and, as always, Dean was glad he didn't have to say the Latin words. He admitted they were useful, but whenever he spoke them, he thought his tongue would twist into a knot. With grim satisfaction he watched the woman's possessed body twitch, and the demon's black eyes stared at the Winchester brothers furiously. It wouldn't take long now, and she would return straight to hell. Dean looked around to make sure they were still alone; it was a starless night, and they were in between towns. Only green, thriving cornfields were around them. They had sprayed a devil's trap on the road to summon a demon to interrogate it – Dean wasn't even that frustrated anymore, when another demon refused to answer them their questions. She wasn't the first to deny them. He gnawed at his bottom lip as he watched Sam finishing his exorcism; he wondered, how much longer could they do that until their luck would run out? There was a fine line between interviewing a demon once and getting away with it, and interrogating a dozen and hoping they wouldn't draw too much attention.

This time, the exorcism didn't go as smoothly as they had planned; the ground was vibrating, and Dean could feel the asphalt crack underneath his boots. He furrowed his brows when he regarded the shaking demon, who was causing such a disturbance. He and Sam shared confused looks, and Sam shrugged his shoulders and continued speaking the last Latin words. With widened eyes, Dean saw the nearby tree at the roadside uprooting, and he held his breath as he wanted to warn Sam. It was too late; it all happened so damn quickly. He heard himself yell "Sam!", and in an instant, Dean lunged for him and threw him on the ground to rescue him from the falling tree. Then there was a terrible pain in Dean's right leg, and he screamed in agony, as a heavy weight came to rest on the backside of his calf. Sam lay underneath him, and Dean could hear a gasped "Dean!" coming from his younger brother. It was very strenuous to uplift his eyes and meet Sam's gaze; their eyes met through the night's bluish twilight, and Dean detected the concern in Sam's eyes. Above them, they recognized a familiar black fog, twirling in midair for a lengthy second. In awe, they observed the cloud of demon waft through the air, then it faded away with a swoosh.

Dean could concentrate on his body again, and he grunted and whimpered, full of suffering, as he tried to roll the tree trunk from his right calf. Inside of his right leg, there was already a horrendous, throbbing pain. It was piercing and it made Dean see white flashes of light in front of his eyes. He felt light-headed, overwhelmed with the ache coursing through his system. He gritted his teeth when Sam slid away underneath him and moved the fallen tree. Now that the weight was gone, the pain felt even worse. Dean cried out and cursed, as he carefully turned around to lie on his back. He and Sam shared worried looks, before Sam knelt down in front of him and pulled up Dean's pants leg carefully. Dean was writhing with so much pain, he couldn't even suppress the tortured sob when Sam gently touched his bare calf and examined it thoroughly.

"Move your leg", he ordered, and Dean tried to, but the limb didn't stir an inch. Frustrated he tried it again, and again, but nothing happened.

"Dean, I'm not a doctor, but I think you've got a tendon rupture. We gotta take you to a hospital", Sam said calmly. Dean cursed some more and hit the asphalt with a fist. Wrath boiled within him. If Sam was right, he would be knocked out for who-knew-how-long. It was an absolute no-go, now that they were trying to find the demon of whom they assumed had killed their father... Though their conversations with the last demons hadn't been too revealing, Dean felt they were drawing closer to the finish line. And now _this_ had to happen! Dean was beyond embarrassed, when Sam had to help him up and as he hobbled to the Impala. Every movement hurt, the sharp pain seeming omnipresent. Sam gave him a sympathetic look as Dean leaned his forehead against the car's side window, a fierce expression veiling his features. Sam started the engine, and Dean was too focused on his maimed leg, that he didn't even complain once about Sam's style of driving.

The ride to the next hospital seemed to take forever, and the pain within Dean's calf was enhancing. He gritted his teeth and tried to take it like a man, but sometimes he couldn't help but whimper in agony. Sam made him inspect his leg with the light of his cell phone, and whenever Dean studied it with shaking fingers, he saw it was swelling and darkening with blood underneath the skin. Dean shook his head in disbelief, frustrated beyond imagination.

Dean barely understood the doctor, who scrutinized radiographs of his legs as he lay patiently on a litter. Sam sat on a nearby chair in the consulting room, listening to the older man's explanation. They had already given Dean some great morphine, and he was wearing a happy smirk on his lips. A wonderful dizziness lingered inside of his body, and he felt as if someone had wrapped him up in cotton wool. He didn't like hospitals, so the tranquillizers were much appreciated to make him oblivious to his surroundings. Only when he met Sam's worried look, he sobered up a little bit and frowned, as the doctor began to roll the stretcher. The dreadful, too bright light of the ceiling lamps blinded Dean, and he was searching frantically for Sam, as the doctor continued to push him along the corridor. He was talking to him with a calm voice, but Dean couldn't decipher the meaning of his words. Men and women in green scrubs appeared to both his sides, and realisation set in. Suddenly, Sam was at his side and squeezed his hand.

"You'll be fine, they just need to fix your tendon", Sam assured him. Then he was gone, and Dean was being rolled into an operating room. He was about to panic, because there was nothing he hated more than operations and being narcotised, but some asshole already injected him with anaesthetics. He wanted to protest, but his eyes already closed, and then, there was only emotionless darkness.

…

When Dean woke up, it was morning, and he felt incredibly cold and sore. His body shivered thanks to the side effect of the narcotics. He was a little bit nauseous and a little out of it. He had to blink several times to make out Sam's sleeping figure in a chair next to him; apparently, he had the luxury of a single bedroom. He examined his body, and when he pushed the blanket aside, he could see his right calf had been put in a cast. _Great._ Annoyed, he rolled his eyes and let out a groan. Whatever that meant, it wasn't promising any good news. He was trying to brace himself for week-long obstacles, especially with this monstrosity of a plaster cast sticking to his calf. His spirits weren't exactly raised, when the doctor entered his room, his patient record in his hand. He greeted Dean friendly, and Dean tried to feign a half-hearted smile. Sam was oblivious to the intruder and kept snoring lightly, educing an honest smile from Dean unknowingly.

"How are you feeling, Mister Winchester?", the doctor asked sternly, re-reading Dean's record with a frown. Dean wondered why he knew his real name, and if Sam was to blame for this. Usually they used false names and fake insurance cards.

"Alright, I guess", he answered, too flabbergasted to think clearly. The man's pale, blue eyes rested on Dean thoughtfully, worry lines joined the creases on his elderly face. He sighed and read Dean's record once more.

"Well, I won't sugarcoat it - we often see such accidents happen when it comes to loggers. I don't know why you were cutting down a tree at night, but whatever... Your Achilles tendon had been torn apart by that tree, and we had to sew it together last night. You won't be able to put weight on that leg for roughly 4 months. We have to immobilise the leg for about six weeks, but you'll have to start the physical therapy within the next few days, so that we can diminish the danger of thrombosis. We'll keep you here for today, just to make sure you're okay – tomorrow you will be released and transferred to a nearby rehab-center for the physiotherapy sessions during the next six weeks. Do you have any questions?"

Dean was so taken aback, he didn't even know where to start. At first, he had wanted to laugh, when the doctor thought he was a lumberjack (what the hell had Sam told them?), but the longer the doctor had spoken, the more upset Dean had felt. Six weeks immobilised! Four months being handicapped, probably attached to one locality! He had never been that sorely afflicted due to an injury. How was he supposed to heal and hunt demons at the same time? As it was, he was easy meat for any supernatural being, hell, he couldn't even run with this damn leg. Resentment rattled through his whole body. He was so grieved, he almost wanted to punch something.

"Mister Winchester?", the doctor asked carefully, as the silence in the room lingered for too long. Dean met his eyes again and tried to smile, though tears of anger were welling in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and nodded, brushing the tears of frustration briskly away with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. No questions."

The doctor smiled at him compassionately.

"Breakfast is at seven, lunch at one, dinner at six. I know it must be difficult for a young man like you to be confined to bed for weeks, but the rehab-center has some nice activities during each day, should you feel bored, and if you want some company, I bet you'll get to know other patients in the common room quickly."

Dean nodded once more and thanked the doctor for his kindness. When he left, Dean was able to feel the full extent of his devastation. They should have put him in a mental house straight away, there was no way he would endure his stay in a rehab clinic for _six_ fucking weeks. Patience had never been one of his virtues, and he was already losing his mind.

**...**

"Dean, I'll be fine on my own!", Sam argued, once Dean had filled him in on his injury and the oncoming therapy program. Of course, Sam had suggested to proceed with the demon hunt _on his own_ , as in _without Dean_ , going against the grain for Dean naturally. There was no way he was letting his younger brother hunt all by himself. His whole life Dean had been looking out for him, and now that they were both grown-ups, they had gotten used to depending on each other. Sam would be too heedless. Something would happen to him, as soon as his awareness would go into hiatus, be it for just a second. He would die brutally and quickly on a lonesome road, or in a deserted barn, and Dean would never get wind of it. He hated that Sam could be so stubborn sometimes. He had had the same pig-headedness when he had left for Stanford University a few years ago.

"Sam, we're not having this conversation! You won't do the job alone, end of the story!", Dean yelled furiously, ignoring the bitchface Sam made. "Moreover, chances are that some demons will drop in for a visit. I mean, look at me, I'm a sitting duck. We have brighter conditions meeting a demon here than anywhere else."

For a while, both of them stilled and tried to calm themselves. During the years they had learnt it was sometimes necessary to shut up for a few minutes. Their eyes met, and Sam gave Dean a pensive look.

"What if no demon turns up? We could be wasting months here, Dean, to no avail. I know you're an overprotective son of a bitch, but you've got to trust in me. I can fend for myself; I'm not a kid anymore. You can call me anytime and I will let you know what I'm up to. And, no worries, before I leave I will secure the building of that rehab clinic, so that no demon can enter it. Bobby taught me the symbols."

No need to say that Dean was very unwilling to agree to Sam's suggestion.

"How the hell do you want to secure a frigging clinic? You can't paint weird symbols on the whole thing."

"Translucent colour, jerk!", Sam replied and stuck out his tongue, making Dean smile a tiny bit.

"You're such a smart ass, Sammy", Dean grinned and winced, when Sam shoved his shoulder playfully. It was still impossible to move a lot; Dean hadn't even noticed before how often his leg was involved in so many motions of his body.

"So, it's a done deal? You're letting me go out into the big, wide world?", Sam asked with a grin stuck all over his mouth. Dean scrutinized him for a few seconds, with, what he hoped, was an intimidating glare. He would never be able to withstand Sam's puppy dog eyes. He rolled his eyes and groaned annoyed.

"You will call every day, you hear me? Every fucking day. And if you get one damn scratch into the car, I'll behead you. Is that clear?"

Sam grinned broadly and nodded in agreement with Dean.

Sam had the decency to stay in Dean's hospital room for the day, though Dean suspected it was just because it gave Sam some pleasure to see Dean getting his syringes. Dean was almost too distracted by the busty nurse injecting him his medicine to glare at Sam's grinning face. She had dark hair, tanned skin, and a sporty figure. If all nurses in this hospital looked like this, he would have no difficulties to stay here for the rest of the day. However, he wasn't that fond of her anymore, when she ran the two syringes into his forearm indelicately.

"Ouch!", he complained, meeting her wicked smirk with a pout. She patted his arm soothingly.

"One for thrombosis prevention, and one antiphlogistic agent. It will help allaying the inflammation of your leg and keep your blood vessels widened. You better get used to it, Mister Winchester: May very well be that you'll get injections more often these days", she explained as sweet as sugar. Dean decided he didn't like her, and as she left the room with a wink, he crossed his arms over his chest and sulked.

"May very well be, Mister Winchester", he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice, making Sam laugh.

"Hey, Sasquatch. How come they have my real name? What were you thinking?", Dean asked sternly, not too enthusiastic about seeing Sam laugh so happily when he was glued to a bed for _weeks_. Sam sobered up and beheld Dean with an exhausted expression in his eyes.

"I don't know, Dean. I just thought it might be strenuous to lie about your _name_ for weeks, I mean, what should I've told them? That your name is Jimmy Page? One day or other they would've realized the cover. So I just gave them your real name. Don't worry about the insurance, I'll pay for the rehab and send you money whenever you need it. Thanks to you my skills regarding pool have improved."

There it was again, the cheeky smirk of his younger brother, and Dean couldn't help but smile too.

"Yeah, I made sure of that. You sucked."

They killed the time of the remaining day with playing cards and bad television, intermingled with conversations about Sam's plans for his oncoming solo-hunt. Dean couldn't help but give Sam unnecessary lectures about what to keep in mind, how to check the tire pressure of the Impala, and so on and on, until Sam smacked his head and told him to shut up. Though it was only late afternoon, Dean felt tired at some point, and his calf started to throb again with indistinct pain. He couldn't even argue, when he noticed his eyes became heavy and that he started falling asleep, and Sam told him he'd be back tomorrow morning.

Some nurse woke Dean for dinner rudely, and as he sat up in bed, he realized Sam was gone. He grimaced at the hospital grub, some healthy sandwiches with cut vegetables – Sam would've rejoiced, but Dean nibbled listlessly at some carrots. Damn it, he was so hungry, he had no choice but to eat what was served. Sadly, he dreamt of cheeseburgers and fries, and, oh God, _pie._ He was almost certain he had to bid adieu to his favourite foods for a good while now.

**TBC**

_Sooo, what do you think?_


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for follows / favourites! I'm glad you're giving this story a try x3 Please review though; I need some thoughts on this at the moment…! A million thanks again to Angelphoenixwings14 for beta-reading this chapter as well! I bet I gave her a hard time with some clumsy sentences and comma faults –laughs embarrassed- she did a great job again and helped me improving some lines x) Again, if you find further mistakes, please let me know.

Now, debut entrance – Castiel!

**Chapter 2**

The transfer to the rehab clinic didn't take long, but Dean was already unnerved, especially by the jumpy driving style of the PTA. This morning had been horrible so far – first of all, it had been quite impossible to shower decently. A nurse had wrapped his plaster cast in some plastic bag, so that it wouldn't get wet, and he had declined her offer to help him shower (lecherous woman, he thought grimly). Secondly, all he had received for breakfast was a lousy, floury apple and a glass of milk, and he feared he was already so enriched with vitamins, his body would mutate. Sam followed with the Impala, and Dean could see his smirk in the driving mirror. It didn't exactly lift his spirits.

Once they stopped and got outside, Dean was highly embarrassed because they made him sit down in a wheelchair, and rolled him towards the entrance. The place looked actually rather charming – there were trimmed green areas, flowerbeds, and trees all around the building. The clinic in itself looked welcoming and neat, with its white walls, blue window frames and wooden shutters (more like a huge country home with two stories). The driver of the PTA checked Dean in, he and Sam watched how he handed the receptionist some documents. When he was gone, she smiled at Dean and walked toward them. She shook both their hands with a firm squeeze and introduced herself as Karen. She had a curly redhead and bright blue eyes, and her toothy smile was contagious. Dean grinned inwardly when he saw how Sam eyed her attentively.

She led them to Dean's room,thankfully another single bedroom **,** though laughably tiny), and Sam rolled Dean's wheelchair in. He helped Dean out of the wheelchair and made him sit down on the bed ( _comfortable_ , Dean's brain registered, quite surprised), asshe rambled on. It seemed, she was talking more to Sam than to Dean, but he didn't mind. From what he overheard, he understood the next few weeks would become strenuous and disgustingly healthy. The meal times were revoltingly early – breakfast at seven, lunch at one, dinner at six, and he scoffed when he heard her say that.

"What, and bedtime is at eleven?", he joked, and she smiled calmly at him.

"Ten, actually. No lights or electronics after that. Believe me, the daily routine is physically demanding, most likely you fall asleep long before ten."

Dean grumbled and ignored Sam's mischievous smile.

"The common room is two corridors away from here. You'll have to go to the canteen for the meal times. Oh, and before I forget it", she turned around and seized something, and Dean's face fell when she gave him the items.

"No wheelchairs for you, Mister Winchester. You will use these crutches instead;it's better for your muscle tissue. You'll have physiotherapy twice a day, before noon and in the late afternoon. Your therapist will come around as soon as he can. If you need anything, there's a red button next to your bed, and you can push it and someone will drop in. You can also call me, my phone extension is 001. For a call outside you have to dial a zero at first. And that's all, if you don't have further questions", she smiled sweetly, turning towards Sam.

After a few lengthy moments of awkward silence, Sam seemed to awaken out of his daydream, and Dean answered that he had no more questions. Karen left (of course with a wink at Sam). He disregarded Dean's knowing look and rubbed his neck shyly.

"I'll get your stuff and prepare the clinic with the symbols. I guess it's best to climb on the roof", Sam mumbled and Dean dismissed him with an approving nod. He laid down for a while, and tried to get used to the bed and the room he would mostly be in for the upcoming weeks. Not even five minutes had passed when someone knocked on his opened door. He looked up, one hand underneath his head, to see a man about his age standing in the door. He wore a light blue uniform, which underlined the deep blue colour of his eyes and flattered his slightly tanned, rosy skin. He had dark hair, a slim figure, and the most tantalizing smile Dean had seen in a long while.

"Dean Winchester?", he asked as he approached Dean slowly, and Dean's jaw dropped slightly once he heard that dark voice. The sound of the stranger's voice caused a turbulent surge of heat inside his stomach and made him all tingly. He nodded, and the man reached out his hand, and Dean shook it, responding to the firm grip equally.

"I'm Castiel Novak, your physiotherapist." There was something about the way those plump pink lips moved that fascinated Dean, and made it hard to concentrate on the man's words. The light stubble on his jaw and cheeks, or his prominent cheekbones weren't helping either. Castiel... what a weird name, Dean thought, as he observed the depth of this wonderful blue in his therapist's eyes. Obviously, he'd been staring too long, because Castiel harrumphed and averted his eyes, looking at Dean's patient record suddenly highly focused.

"Have you had breakfast?", he asked Dean, still not meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, if you want to label it as that. I wouldn't call an apple a breakfast. I'd rather have scrambled eggs with bacon", Dean admitted with a shrug and a cheeky smile. His smile died quickly on his lips, when Castiel finally looked up and regarded him with a mellow, yet somewhat stern expression in his eyes.

"Sorry, there won't be a lot of carbs or cholesterol for you within these walls. The clinic has a specially developed nutrition program, implying lots of vegetables and fruits", Castiel explained, and he laughed softly when Dean acted as if he had to puke and rolled his eyes.

"I know", he soothed. "But you have to heal and fattening food won't help your leg. Let me have a look...", Castiel mumbled and pushed Dean's pants leg gently up, so that he could see the flesh above the cast.

"How about you buy me a drink first?", Dean joked under his breath, trying to pay no heed to those slender fingers touching him, but Castiel had heard him and met his eyes with a kind smile.

"I never needed that to get into someone's pants", he retorted dryly, making Dean dumbstruck in doing so. Castiel bent his head again, and Dean mused how soft those dark strands of hair would feel underneath his fingertips. He could inhale the soapy, fresh smell coming from Castiel's body, and it stirred something twitching inside his guts. It was weird, that Castiel was so near; usually, Dean didn't let strangers that close (except for one night stands, of course). He was painfully aware of the thinness of his clothes, and how he could feel both their body heats collide. The therapist touched his flesh above the plaster cast carefully. He gave the muscles and the skin light squeezes, just underneath Dean's knee, and Dean winced and laughed in embarrassment.

"Hey, I'm ticklish", he growled, hearing Castiel smile and exhale a breathy laugh.

"I'm sorry", he said quietly, before he continued palpating Dean's calf and upper leg. When he was done, he pulled Dean's pants leg down cautiously, and with so much gentleness that Dean felt his heart melt warmly. Castiel met his eyes again, wearing a frown.

"The inflammation is on the decline, which is good, but I think we'll have to administer you some injections to support your system. If I'm right, we'll be able to start working on your calf tomorrow. Until then, I suggest we start with the rest of the whole-body training."

Dean sat up, about to protest loudly.

"Wait a second, what whole-body training? My calf is injured, the rest of my body is just fine", he complained, making Castiel smile again. He was getting used to the sight, and he thought he looked rather lovely when he smiled.

"Dean, you'll be in this clinic for six weeks. Do you really think we'll let you lie in bed the whole time? You'll suffer muscle loss within the next few days because you'll be mostly laid up, and we will try to stop that with some stamina training _and_ toning exercises. Also, it will help your calf if the rest of your body is in a good state. There will be some exercises, which will demand the muscles of your stomach, back, butt, hell, even your shoulders and arms. So it will be easier for you if we train your whole body", Castiel explained calmly, still wearing the hunch of a smile on his soft, pink mouth.

Though Castiel seemed like an affable person, Dean was on the edge of telling him to go fuck himself, because there was no way that _Dean Winchester_ would eat healthy 24/7 _and_ act like an exercise-addict at the same time. Luckily, Sam entered the room in this moment, saving Dean from losing his dignity. Castiel turned halfway around and smiled at Sam.

"This is my brother Sam. Sam, this is Castiel, my physiotherapist", Dean disclosed and watched how the two shook hands. Sam placed two heavy travelling bags on the ground, huffing and puffing slightly due to their weight – they included all of Dean's scarce belongings, mostly his clothes, some tattered books he loved, an mp3-player and some of his weapons. Little did Dean know that Sam had brought his favourite weapons too, but Sam was certain Dean didn't and couldn't even sleep without a knife or a gun at hand.

"Uhm, we were just about to start the daily workout", Castiel said, exchanging looks with Sam and Dean.

"Is now a bad time? We could postpone this, if you need some time", he suggested, and Dean had to smile when he heard Castiel's kind proposal. He wasn't going to be a difficult drama queen from his first day on, so he stopped his therapist with a wave of his hand.

"Nah, Sam wanted to go out into the big, wide world anyhow, didn't you?", he smirked.

"Yeah, true. I'll store your clothes away and then I'll be on my way."

"I don't want to disturb you; I'll have to get those syringes I talked about anyway. I'll be back in a minute. It was nice to meet you, Sam", Castiel said politely and shook Sam's gigantic hand once more, then he was gone. Dean tried to not gaze after those firm legs and the cute, round butt, but Sam had caught his stare and grinned amusedly at him, particularly as Dean felt his cheeks blush.

"So, your therapist, huh?", Sam asked slyly, starting to unpack Dean's bags and shoving his clothes into the head-high closet behind the door.

"You shut your cakehole", Dean replied with a grin he couldn't suppress, fighting against another surge of blood rushing through his cheeks. Alright, he had to agree that this Castiel guy was really handsome, and the mere thought of spending the next few weeks in his nearness turned Dean's whole body into jelly and warmed him thoroughly – but that didn't imply he had to talk with Sam about it. Sam continued working in silence, and once the bags were almost empty, he placed them underneath Dean's bed.

"I brought you your favourite guns and knives. There's some holy water in there, some salt, a spray can, and silver bullets. Hope that's sufficient", Sam said quietly, as he leant down to Dean. Dean patted his shoulder and thanked him.

"You call every night, alright?", Dean questioned, staring unyieldingly into his brother's eyes – it was difficult for him to let him go, all on his own. He knew worry would haunt him every day, but he had to act like an adult and accept Sam as an adult too at some point. Sam smiled gently at him, confirming Dean's demand with a choked "Of course, you jerk." They weren't going to see each other for quite a while, so they hugged fiercely, holding on to one another for a moment. After John had died, they had understood how easily they could be next, so they made more of an effort to show the other how appreciated he was. Once they were killed it would be too late for such confessions, suppressed because of their shyness and aversion to honesty about their feelings.

"You look out for yourself, you hear me?", Dean mumbled and squeezed his younger brother once more. Sam finally let go of him and ruffled Dean's hair, making him grumble and narrow his eyes dangerously.

"Yeah, you too. See you, Dean...", Sam said softly, and with a last smile, he turned around and walked past Castiel, who stood there, leaning against the doorframe with a pensive look on his face. He approached Dean silently, the syringes in his hand, and he sat down beside Dean on his bed. Dean let him take his forearm; Castiel placed it on his lap and extended it. He shook his head in disbelief when he saw the black and blue mark on Dean's crook of the arm, the remnant of his last injections.

"Well, that nurse was brutal, am I right?", he said with a smile and looked up into Dean's eyes. Dean smiled too and observed how Castiel opened the caps of the syringes.

"You have no idea", he joked. Mesmerized Dean saw how Castiel held his arm still with one hand, and how he gave him the injection skillfully so it hurt only slightly. His grip was firm but tender at the same time, and it made Dean all giddy inside. He felt light-headed, as if time was standing still. Somehow, he was calm and pleasantly excited in Castiel's nearness, for he emanated a splendid vibe. Castiel placed the first syringe away and took the second, repeating the process with the same calmness and certainty.

"You're brother's leaving for a longer period?", he asked friendly, obviously having seen their embrace. Dean felt a little awkward about the question, but he found he couldn't really resist talking to Castiel. He already loved the sound of his voice; it was addictive.

"Yeah, I don't think he'll be around while I'm here. He still has to take care of our business", he replied.

"The patient record said you're loggers?", Castiel asked and uplifted his head to smirk at Dean. Dean returned the smirk mischievously and rubbed his neck with the hand that wasn't demanded.

"Or something like that... or not. Better not talk about it, or I might have to kill you", Dean grinned feisty.

Castiel chuckled and got up, letting go of Dean's arm in the process. He grabbed the crutches and held them out for Dean, moving his head with an implication for him to get up. Dean groaned and sat up clumsily and accepted the crutches. He was glad Castiel didn't ask further questions about his profession, but somehow he would have rather kept talking with him about this and that than starting the dreaded workout.

"Alright, we'll start with the crutches. You'll have to get used to walking with them. I assume your arms and shoulders will be sore within the next days, because the movement will be new to your body. Can you get up on your own?"

Dean didn't feel comfortable with this at all, and he hated to make a fool out of himself, but he tried to put some weight on the crutches nonetheless, while he struggled to get up safely too. He sighed exasperated, and gave it another attempt. It didn't work again, and he stopped, shaking his head disappointedly. Great, now he couldn't even stand up without help.

"Don't worry, we'll work on that", Castiel assured him. Gently he took the crutches out of Dean's hand and placed them aside, and as his fingers brushed against Dean's, it caused an electric feeling bouncing through Dean. Their eyes met when Castiel seized Dean's left hand with his left one, their fingers intertwined. It felt far too intimate for a simple touch, and Dean couldn't help but blush again.

"Place your healthy foot on the ground. I'll pull you up", Castiel instructed, and Dean nodded. Within a second, he perceived the strong pull of Castiel's arm, far stronger than he would have thought, and he stood on one wobbly leg, his other one useless. Castiel gave him the crutches back and together they adjusted their height to Dean's body. Dean was a little bit confused, when Castiel placed his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed him down on the bed again.

"Now, we'll try this again. You'll be grateful not to have to make a call every time you need to use the bathroom, and our staff will stone me and accuse me I didn't teach you anything whenever they have to come and help you get up. Once more, place your healthy leg on the ground, then use the left crutch and put as much pressure on it as you can. Don't worry, the crutch will survive this. Make sure it won't slip away, then you pull yourself up with your left side."

It was easier said than done, and Dean's upper arm was trembling with exhaustion – he managed to stand up somewhat shakily, and Castiel had to hold his right arm firmly to give him support. His fingers dug into Dean's biceps tightly, and it made Dean's mouth dry. The way he gripped him, so blatantly and resolutely... They practiced the same exercise over and over again, until Dean was able to get up on his own, and they both smiled genuinely at each other when they realized they had accomplished the first goal. The happy glint in Castiel's deep blue eyes set something alight in Dean's heart, and he felt his inhibitions shrink easily the longer he was around the therapist. Castiel made him walk towards the staircase outside Dean's room – he patiently walked next to him along the floor, keeping a close watch on his every tentative move with the crutches. Sometimes his hand fled to the small of Dean's back, supporting him wordlessly, and Dean appreciated the gesture.

When they entered the hallway, Dean's mood became gloomy as he regarded the stairs as if they were monsters, just waiting to rip him to shreds. He sighed tiredly. His limbs already ached thanks to the damn crutches, and now _stairs_?

"The principle is easy. Upstairs – first healthy leg, then crutches, then injured leg. Downstairs – crutches, healthy leg, injured leg. Got it? It will feel natural the longer you do it", Castiel fluted, patting Dean's shoulder encouragingly. Dean clenched his teeth and supported his weight on the crutches. He turned his head and gave Castiel a side-glance. There was a strange, emboldening shimmer in those deep, blue wells, which made Dean grim and eager. He knew it would be quite strenuous and exhausting, but he wanted to give it a try. The way Castiel looked at him made him want to achieve this, despite the struggle. So he followed Castiel's instruction and started climbing the first step carefully. Castiel wasn't touching him, but Dean could feel the heat of his palm close to his back, always there should he fall or stumble. It was quite reassuring, and soon Dean felt more relaxed.

They walked up and down the stairs countless times, always in the same, slow pace, and Dean was soaked through with perspiration when they stopped after eternities. His arms were trembling and aching, and he was breathing heavily – howsoever, he felt himself smiling brightly when he looked into Castiel's face and saw the proud smile on those lovely, pink lips. Castiel touched his shoulder and looked him deeply in the eyes, making Dean light-headed and absolutely flabbergasted.

"Well done. I think that's enough for the nonce. I'll accompany you to your room, then I'll have to look after my other patients. Post-lunch we'll proceed with the workout", Castiel said gently. Partly Dean was glad to hear Castiel's compliment – on the other hand, he was shattered to hear he wasn't done for the day yet. One thing was certain - he would have sore muscles for _days_.

**TBC**

Thoughts? Opinions? Let me know what you think! Oh, btw, I think I'll update once or twice a week…! As always, your feedback is appreciated x3


	3. Chapter 3

Hi there x3 so, thanks again for the new followers and the reviews! Btw, I've been asked if Dean is already aware of his bisexuality in this - yeah, I've decided that Dean's and Castiel's sexuality is already well-founded in this story, I wanted to give them that option... I mean, they're 26 or 27 in this, I wanted to allow them to be certain about their sexual orientation at that age for once hahah x3 (there are so many fics out there with the two of them struggling with the topic, I didn't find it necessary for me to do the same). So, here's the next chapter – gotta warn you, it's not beta-read this time (but I proofread it a few times).

**Chapter 3**

The silence on the way back to Dean's room was deafening and kind of tense, solely interrupted with Dean's grunts and pants. It was pretty wearing to walk on his crutches, he still had to take care of his steps; Castiel walked slowly beside him, watching his every move narrowly.

"You know, you're doing really great for your first day", he praised when they entered Dean's room and Dean settled himself on his bed with an exhausted sigh, putting the crutches aside. Castiel wrote something on Dean's patient record, probably his estimation of Dean's progress.

"Yeah, well, I want to get out as quickly as I can", Dean confessed, and Castiel's eyes darted briefly at him. He clenched Dean's record underneath his arm and beheld him with a thoughtful, long look, which made Dean all antsy inside. Those damn blue eyes, it felt like Castiel was capable of looking straight into Dean's soul, seeing his weaknesses and strengths effortlessly. Usually Dean didn't like it when people stared at him like that, but with Castiel, it was different. He liked being looked at in this way, and there was nothing he wanted to hide from him. It felt natural to reveal himself to him, to not try maintaining a veil of privacy. It was impossible to avert his gaze from his therapist.

"That's commendable, Dean, but I think you don't comprehend what has happened to your body. The hospital had to stitch your sinew back together, it feels like a _new_ one to your leg. It's not used to work and to endure the weight of your body, let alone stretch or bend or twist. You're going to have to relearn all these movements, and it will take weeks, despite your ambitious efforts. If it gives you comfort, I will push you, but I will also make sure you won't overexert yourself", Castiel explained with soft, considered words, his voice becoming even darker the quieter he spoke, and it caused goosebumps appearing on Dean's skin. Castiel's words gulped down the hope Dean had been feeling and made him aware of the vehemence of his body's state. Castiel smiled sympathetically at him, a sad expression dwelling in his gorgeous, blue eyes.

"If you want to shower, there are airtight bags in the bathroom for your cast and some medical tape. Don't worry, the next session this afternoon won't be that arduous, we'll mostly focus on stretching exercises. I'll pick you up close to 5 o'clock."

Castiel blinked at him slowly, a friendly gesture, which made Dean calm and restless simultaneously. He watched in awe how Castiel disappeared and closed the door behind him, leaving Dean all to himself, gazing after him absentmindedly.

Dean passed the time of the residual forenoon with showering, listening to music and reading one of his favourite books languidly. He already ached for his car, he missed driving her. Hell, he even longed for stupid conversations or pranks with Sam; he had gotten so used to his company, it was weird to be alone. He dreaded lunchtime, because he was supposed to hobble to the cafeteria with those awful crutches. What a great concept, he thought bitterly to himself. Some idiot must have thought it was easier for the patients to get to know one another if they met each time food was being served. Dean had no issues with making friends or meeting somebody; thanks to his life on the road, it felt like shooting fish in a barrel. Their various jobs had made them get to know all kinds of people. However, Dean found it difficult to trust others and open up to them thoughtlessly. Also, he didn't feel the need or desire to make friends while he was staying here. It had been sufficient to meet Castiel.

Dean couldn't exactly pinpoint why he was interested in him or what was so alluring about him. His looks were a great plus, out of the question, but it was also something else Dean was intrigued with. Maybe it was the carelessness with which he dealt with Dean, how he wasn't impressed with his cheeky comments or his uncertainties about his physical capabilities. At the end of their workout, Dean had achieved more than he would have ever expected possible, and to receive Castiel's acknowledging glance had felt incredible, _glorious_. Dean wanted to see him look at him like this again – he had seemed inhumanely beautiful to Dean, how his big blue eyes had lingered on him for just a second too long...

His head was still swimming with all these thoughts, when he made his way to the cafeteria a few hours later. He sat down on a table, which provided place for four, then he let his eyes wander through the spacious hall. There were mostly elderly patients in here, some of them were not only physically but also mentally handicapped, making Dean humble and gracious that he wasn't as damaged as them. He realized every person received the same dish, which was brought to each table by the staff. He was relieved, because he had pondered about the impossible ways of carrying a tray and trying to walk with one injured leg for far too long, wracking his brain in doing so. He was startled out of his musings when two persons took their seats next and opposite to him.

Immediately he had to grin when he saw a man, by all appearances his age, grin at him too. The dude had a frigging _mullet._ The other guy to his right side smiled shyly at him; he was probably a little bit younger than Dean. His lengthy hair was dirty blonde and he had a phenomenal long nose. If the guy with the freaky haircut was the personification of rock 'n' roll, the other seemed like the epitome of country music.

"Thank God, finally a patient under hundred years!", the mullet-head sighed and reached out his hand to Dean. "I'm Ash, this scrawny weirdo beside you is Garth. We bring the average age down here dramatically."

Dean scoffed and shook both their hands. Apparently, it was easier making friends than he would have thought. They fraternized with each other, especially when Ash complained about the healthy food program. Dean couldn't have agreed more, as he stuffed his face with stewed garden vegetables and wild rice. He learned Garth was a farmer, who had been clumsy enough to let a cow stomp on his foot, breaking several bones. Dean almost choked on his food with laughter, as Garth explained to him, how he had tried to shove the cow away, though he had been in severe pain. Ash boasted with the rupture of his quadriceps (a tendon in his upper leg, Dean was told) and his broken arm. Ash was a motorcycle rider (though he worked mostly for an IT company), who loved to compete in dangerous contests – thanks to a dire fall, he had obtained his injuries (not the first time he was here, he explained).

Dean stuck to his story about being a logger, it was easier to tell a simple lie than to talk about demons and other supernatural spirits. They wouldn't have believed him anyways. He got to know the rehab clinic was as appealing as he had thought in the first place. The common room contained frigging _pool tables_ and foosball tables, and Dean understood he would act like the childish bastard he was and gamble with those two guys from now on. When he asked them how they killed their time here, they added, there was also a swimming pool in the basement; apart from that, one could watch TV every night or try to take a walk in the bordering park. The clinic also offered courses on various topics, such as painting or sewing, making Dean laugh when he heard them say that. He would have to be very, very desperate to participate in a sewing course.

"I admit, it sounds kind of boring, but once you get used to it, you will enjoy it here. We all could take a time out like this more often, not only when we're injured. It's quite relaxing, actually", Garth assured Dean. After lunch, Ash and Garth abducted Dean to the common room. Dean would have laughed had he seen himself and the other two, how they stumbled through the long corridors, all of them handicapped and wrapped up in bandages and plaster casts. They must have looked ridiculous. During the afternoon they played poker and they got to know each other better; Dean lost several times thanks to Ash's stunning skills – Garth was a hopeless case, he lost all the time. Dean didn't even notice how swiftly the time was passing, until his therapist appeared in the common room, giving him a friendly smile. Apparently it was time for his second workout session. Dean didn't look forward to straining his body, though a glimmer of joy coursed through him at the prospect of spending time with Castiel.

"Guys, I've gotta go. Physiotherapy and so on...", Dean said and got up clumsily, resting his weight on his crutches. Ash and Garth nodded and waved at him, then Dean made his way towards Castiel, who stood patiently in the doorway and smiled at him tenderly. Wordlessly they strolled next to each other, down the corridor. It felt comfortable to be in Castiel's nearness again, it soothed the foundations of Dean's soul without much ado. He tried to not over-analyse his emotions and to just enjoy the company of his therapist, as they walked slowly, step by step.

"I see you've made acquaintances?", Castiel asked with a sideglance and an amicable smile, which Dean returned with an equivalent one.

"Yeah, I guess. They seem nice", he responded, a little bit lost in thought. Why did it feel like he knew Castiel better than Ash and Garth, though he had spent more time with them during this day? He sensed he wanted to learn everything about Castiel too, though far more detailed, far more intimate, and that placed a frown on Dean's forehead.

"I'm happy for you. It can be quite lonely in here without friends", Castiel contemplated loudly. Dean wondered if there was more to Castiel's statement, if it implied he felt lonely sometimes – he was about to ask him when Castiel stopped in front of an opened door, tilting his head in a welcoming gesture.

"This is my office, room 43. It'd be great if you could come here every day at 5, so I won't have to search for you throughout the whole clinic", he declared and entered the room. Dean followed his lead and Castiel shut the door behind him. He saw the room was stuffed with medicine balls, rubber mats, weights and other gym equipment. It was fairly spacious, the ground was covered with countless roll mats. Dean couldn't help but pay attention to the way Castiel's muscles flexed underneath his baby blue clothes, as he bent forward and adjusted one of the mats. He turned around to Dean.

"Lay down. We'll do some warm-up." Dean had to try real hard to stifle a laugh or a sexual innuendo. So he complied to Castiel's instruction and lay down on his back, placing his crutches next to him. Castiel knelt down to his side and examined his body thoroughly, causing sparks of heat inside Dean's stomach. A river of warmth spread in his spine, and if he wasn't utterly mistaken, it was a feeling akin to lust – he couldn't suppress the sensation the longer he observed Castiel's eyes regarding him so attentively. Then Castiel touched his shoulders and pressed against them with his nimble fingers, squeezing Dean's taut muscles.

"You whole body seems uptight. I sense you probably drive a lot, am I right? Your shoulders are completely stiff, we'll have to work on that", Castiel mumbled musingly, making Dean cringe. Was it so easy to read him?

"Right guess... I, uh, I travelled by car all my life, it kind of goes with my job", he confessed, meeting Castiel's suddenly intense look. He couldn't withstand those lavender-blue eyes, and his throat constricted with an ache he didn't understand, the longer Castiel regarded him mercilessly.

"I didn't know loggers had to travel that much", he said dryly, forgoing Dean's attempt to explain himself. Instead, he palpated Dean's ribs, wearing a displeased mien. "You're ribs are rigid as well", he murmured, then he continued testing Dean's body blatantly. He seized his hips forcefully, making Dean yelp with a sudden pain. Castiel pursed his lips and looked up into Dean's eyes.

"We have to adjust your hip joint, it's a little bit dislocated. Turn on your left side and bend your right leg."

Dean did as he was told, not sure he liked Castiel's snarky comment. He knew he didn't have to explain himself or his life to Castiel, but it seemed stupid to put on an act, if he was going to spend every day with him. Surely, they could not talk to one another all the time, however, that wasn't something Dean _wanted._ He wanted to converse with Castiel, he wanted him to know him and to get to know him too. It was an urge thriving inside of him, and to perceive Castiel's somewhat cold behaviour unsettled him.

"Alright, I'm not a logger", he said in the moment Castiel's fingers wandered underneath his shirt, right above his ass. "Take a deep breath", Castiel ordered unperturbed, confusing Dean even more, but he inhaled deeply nonetheless. Castiel's thumb and forefinger pressed against a spot and Dean felt something shift, but in a good way. Castiel touched Dean's upper thigh tentatively and rolled Dean around on his back, looking deeply into his eyes once more.

"You don't need to justify yourself, Dean. I'm sorry, I won't comment on it again", Castiel stated, his voice sounding absolutely circumspectly, then he averted his gaze; to Dean, it resembled regret and shame. Flabbergasted he watched Castiel lay down on a mat beside him, mirroring his position.

"Copy my movements as best as you can", the dark-haired man said, then he placed his arms behind his head , his fingers intertwined, and he moved his stretched arms from the left to the right side. Dean could hear the joints in his neck creak; he felt a bit awkward as he imitated Castiel's exercise, but soon he perceived his shoulders and neck were cracking too. Castiel brought one leg up to his chest, embracing his knee and pulling it closer – Dean had a hard time doing the same, the plaster cast produced some extra weight he wasn't used to. By the time they were arching their backs and uplifting their hips, Dean risked a sideglance at Castiel's concentrated face.

"I shouldn't have lied to you about my job. It's just, I can't really tell you what I'm doing."

Castiel turned his head and gave Dean an honest, sweet smile. "Then don't", he stated simply, making Dean smirk. There was something in the air, the attraction between them was almost palpable. Dean felt a strange weightlessness inside his chest, smiling to himself at the thought of Castiel's lovely smile. The feeling continued during the following three-quarters of an hour, though they didn't speak about themselves. They were doing sit-ups, lifted weights with their arms and strengthened the muscles of their backs as they lay on their stomachs. Once more, Dean felt exhausted beyond imagination. His whole body burnt and trembled, he was wonderfully spent and the endorphins, developed through their work-out, made Dean light-headed and grin happily. They were both sweaty, and Dean was marveling at the beads of sweat clinging to Castiel's forehead, or how dark his strands of hair had become due to the perspiration.

"Turn around, I'll relax those muscles on your back and shoulder", Castiel requested, sounding breathless and absolutely sexy with his dark voice. He obviously didn't know what he was doing to Dean with the husky rasp of his words. Dean complied to Castiel's instruction and laid down on his stomach, anticipating his slender fingers on his sweaty, clothed back. And suddenly, there were ten digits pressing into the flesh of his shoulders, starting to massage them with slow, circular movements, and Dean was plainly _loosing it._ He mewled appreciatively, when Castiel applied enough pressure to unravel the knots in his torso, that had been there as long as he could remember. God, he really knew what he was doing. A warm surge washed through Dean's stomach, and buoyancy blossomed within him when Castiel's powerful hands wandered down and grasped his ribs, massaging his flesh silently. Though he knew Castiel was obviously just doing his job, it felt much more intimate to let him touch him. Hell, it almost felt like a great foreplay, and Dean had to try really desperately not to grow hard in his pants.

The strong fingers dared to travel down to his hips and squeezed the flesh at both sides simultaneously. Dean couldn't help it when his pelvis pushed slightly upwards, towards Castiel's knowing hands. He let his forehead fall down on the mat, automatically his mouth opened sensually, as he took pleasure in Castiel's touches. His own breaths sounded thick to him, filled with lust. He just couldn't help it. Castiel's fingers crawled to his spine and his ribcage, to safer territory; Dean could hear his bones crack, felt, how his muscles warmed up. By the time Castiel was done, Dean was a slackened, boneless puddle of warmth and ease, he couldn't wipe away the satisfied smile on his lips. Damn, Castiel was going to be the death of him. He was glad he had managed to make his growing erection disappear again before he turned around and sat up, looking up into Castiel's face. He was still kneeling in front of him, beholding him with a strange, intense fire burning in his stunning blue eyes. Dean wasn't sure whether his cheeks were reddened due to their workout, or because there was the slightest hope he was appealing to Castiel too. The mere thought made his heart leap into his throat, and he gulped strainedly. If he wasn't mistaken, he was fairly certain he could spot the littlest smile tugging at Castiel's lips too – his blue eyes contained a sweet, soft expression.

His therapist scrambled and got to his feet. He reached out a helping hand for Dean and pulled him up with the same effortless and gracefulness Dean still lacked of. He felt a little bit empty and gloomy when Castiel's fingers let go of his hand, he instantly missed their warmth; they were standing so close in front of each other, he could feel Castiel's breath touching his chin hotly, and they regarded each other for a second too long. Dean was certain, he would never get over the way those eyes looked like, so beautiful, so gorgeous, the irises showing a colour he had never seen before. Furthermore, Castiel had a mouth to die for, plump, slightly chapped lips, and seemingly so pliant and soft it would make your knees turn into jelly. A smile twitched at them, and Dean couldn't stop smiling either. Though the atmosphere had been somewhat tense an hour ago, it felt now so damn relaxing to be in Castiel's company, Dean never wanted it to end. Eventually Castiel got a hold of himself, because he said "I'll see you tomorrow, I will drop in after you've had breakfast", and Dean couldn't even stop his shoulders slumping down to some degree. Tomorrow had to be sufficient. He nodded and accepted the crutches Castiel handed him.

"Will you be alright?", Castiel asked, as he watched Dean walking towards the door with uncertain steps. Castiel had been right, his arms already hurt due to the unknown movements. He stopped and turned around, giving Castiel an amused smirk.

"Of course. See you tomorrow, Cas", he said, unaware that he had subconsciously given him a nickname.

"Yeah, see you, Dean", Castiel replied, his face fell, and the smile he gave Dean seemed melancholic and bitter-sweet to him. The look of his deep blue eyes had changed to a hesitant, affected glance, which baffled Dean extremely. Despite that, he turned around again and walked to his room – he didn't want to ruin the tender vibe, which had thrived between them in the end, with inconsiderate, meaningless words.

**TBC**

Sooo, what do you think? Thoughts, suggestions? Let me know! x)


	4. Chapter 4

Hi my lovely readers! So, did you survive the first episode of season 9? I'm excited and worried at the same time x3 I assure you, within this story there will be –no- season 9 spoilers, promise! Thank you for your interest so far! I see this story gained some kudos, hey you silent people, let me know what you think please x3? Reviews are love and I love love hehe x3 Kudos once more to the lovely Angelphoenixwings14, who beta-read this chapter and improved some of my sentences (I've grown very fond of her feedback, her suggestions always amaze me because they're so valuable and useful)! Go ahead and give her some love, she has a Destiel AU story of her own now and it's daaamn fascinating (Second Chances on fanfiction dot net). Now, back to our hurt Dean and therapist Castiel…

Chapter 4

Dean decided he was already hooked on the strong coffee they served here for breakfast. He was also in dire need of it, with regard to the gross early hour of the day – his eyes darted a look at the round, big wall clock in the canteen, showing it was ten past seven in the morning. He was deadly tired, though he had slept like a log. The bed was indeed comfortable, and it had provided him with as much sleep as he hadn't received in years. He had fallen asleep after he had a brief talk with Sam on the phone, making sure he was okay and safe. The nurse had really been serious, when she had walked in a few minutes after ten p.m., taking his cell phone and putting it aside on the windowsill, just out of range. His glare at her sweet smile had been lethal, but she had just turned around and switched off the light, and he had given in to his complaining body, soothing it with much deserved sleep.

Now every one of his limbs hurt, his muscles were sore and aching. Damn Castiel and his efficient workout sessions. He wasn't exactly looking forward to more torturing of his poor body, though he yearned to look into those perfect blue orbs again, to drown in their enticing colour, to try and count the thick lashes... He hadn't been able to take his mind off the enchanting therapist ever since he woke up; flashbacks of his dark brown hair occupied him, his careful smiles, the lean muscles on his butt and upper arms, hidden underneath the baby blue cotton... The perfect, firm round globe of his ass, that Dean wanted to grope unabashedly. He remembered the feeling of Castiel's working, adept hands on his back, and it created a churning heat deep in his guts. He felt his cheeks redden. Dean was shifting uncomfortably, when he realized his dick was reacting to his train of thoughts eagerly, twitching treacherously in his pants. Ash and Garth were entering the canteen and distracted him from his little (well, not so little) problem by sitting down at his table, greeting him with sleepy eyes and ruffled bed-hair.

They conversed as effortlessly with each other as anything, and Dean heard himself actually laugh heartily at some point; he felt so cozy around those two. It was a sound that startled him, because it had been quite a while since he had laughed so carelessly, he couldn't even remember the last time. It had probably been before his father's death, and that thought made him frown again and made the smile on his lips fade.

He had returned to his room and lying in his bed, allowing those memories to assail him without restraint. They were sweeping through his insides and clouding his mind. It still hurt to think about John – not only about his sudden death or the last things he had said to Dean; there were sourer countless recollections about his life, closely entangled to love and hate, pride and fear. John had always been a contradiction in his life. Dean had loved him, he had feared him, he had hated him; but most of all, he had wanted to please him, he had longed to make him proud of him. Now that he was dead, Dean knew clearer than ever how blind he had been, what a used tool he had been. And still, he loved his father, couldn't let go of the thought that he wanted to see him alive again and talk to him, have a man-to-man talk instead of a child-to-father-talk.

He wasn't in the best of moods when Castiel knocked at his open door hesitantly, leaning against the doorframe and giving him a mellow look and a tender smile. He looked gut-wrenchingly admirable in the lush, golden morning light, how he stood there in the door with his white uniform, his dark hair strictly combed in a side parting. His eyes were refracting the light and shone in their plain, luscious colour at him, cut right through his heart. His rosy lips looked delicate, and his skin appeared even softer as a ray of light hit it. Dean felt his breathing falter for a second; Castiel looked angelic, fresh and pure like a flower at the crack of dawn, just blossomed and wet with morning dew. His feelings were already quieterfrom just looking at him; without knowing it, Cas was his calming anchor, which brought him down to earth. The smile he returned though wasn't as heartfelt as he had aimed for. Castiel entered the room and they exchanged quiet "Good mornings"; Castiel was sitting down on his bedside quite naturally, his legs hanging loosely from the mattress.

Castiel didn't do anything for a moment, just sat there at Dean's side and regarded him with an expression Dean couldn't decipher; it was a mixture of happy and sad at the same time. Dean felt absolutely flabbergasted and speechless when he fell into those endless blue wells of Castiel's eyes meeting his. A shudder ran down his spine, cozy warmth boiled within his whole body.

"How are you feeling today? Have you had breakfast?", Castiel asked gently, sounding calm and balanced. Dean gave him the evil eye and tried to sulk, as he averted his glance.

"Well, I have sore muscles everywhere, thanks to you! And yes, I've had breakfast. At least the coffee is decent here, helped getting the fruit salad down." Surprised he turned his head, when he heard Castiel's chuckle, and he grinned most self-contented, as he observed Castiel's toothy grin. That he was to blame for those delighted features in front of him made him feel like he was on top of the world. It replaced his rather black mood with a fuzzy heat and a joy he did not comprehend.

"That's reassuring, it's only an evidence that the training is efficient", Castiel replied. Then his hands started pulling Dean's pants leg up again, and soon he was gently touching the naked skin and flesh of Dean's calf and the places around his knee, testing the structure and the temperature of his leg. Dean observed him while he palpated his limb, still wearing a tiny smile on his kissable lips. He looked so beautiful, Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from him. Finally, Castiel felt satisfied, and he fixed Dean's clothes carefully, meeting his glance. It seemed to Dean that he was pleasantly surprised to find Dean's eyes resting on him, because his mouth fell somewhat agape, and he was almost certain he saw Castiel's pupils dilate slightly. It made Dean all antsy and warm inside, clutching his heart with pride.

"The inflammation has passed, I think we can start the training for your injured calf today. It's a bit narrow in here, I suggest we move this to my office", Castiel explained and got up, then he reached out his hand for Dean and pulled him to a stand, though they both knew Dean was capable of doing so himself – the way their fingers intertwined, how their skin brushed together, it was most welcoming, and Dean enjoyed the feel of Castiel's firm touch while it lasted. For a second, their eyes were glued to each other, and Dean felt like he couldn't breathe properly - Castiel's fresh, soapy scent filled his lungs, his mind, his everything, engulfed every sensible thought.

They were both strangely quiet as they walked to Castiel's office. Dean cursed inwardly about his crutches; their eyes darted over each other time and again, and sometimes Dean caught Castiel staring at him, and then both of them smiled hesitantly. There was something in the air, something thick and heavy with meaning – sparks were flying busily between them, heating up the atmosphere, until Dean felt as if he was going insane with passion. He wanted to kiss those pink lips greedily, he wanted to grab Castiel's slim hips and push him against the next wall to ravage him unrestrainedly... When he received another of Castiel's melancholic looks, he decided to man up and talk with him.

"Can I ask you something?", he started, trying to break the ice, whereupon Castiel nodded slowly. "Yesterday you said it gets lonely in here..." Castiel tilted his head and while they walked, his eyes never left Dean's, it seemed to Dean as if they were containing a knowing, yet innocent expression, as if Castiel didn't want to admit he knew what Dean was alluring to. So he wasn't surprised when Castiel shrugged his shoulders and asked "What about it?". He had to smile when he detected the little smile Castiel was giving him, averting his eyes, as he felt his cheeks blush with an embarrassing surge of blood. He didn't know if he was allowed to cross the line between patient and therapist, but he couldn't suppress the urge to get to know Castiel better, so he had to make a daring move.

"Well, are you, uh... are you lonely sometimes? Or why did you say it?" They arrived at Castiel's office and walked inside, Castiel shut the door behind Dean and regarded him with a long, pensive look, while they stood there face to face. Dean sensed his knees were going weak, the longer Castiel looked at him like that – he wasn't sure, but he thought he saw something akin to sadness dwelling in the expression of his beautiful blue eyes, and it burdened Dean with a heavy weight to see this gorgeous, young man look so haggard.

"It doesn't matter how I feel", Castiel said soberly, dismissing the subject with another shrug of his shoulders – in doing so, he put a frown on Dean's face, and he was positive, that, yeah, Castiel was feeling lonely indeed, and that it was a risky topic he obviously didn't want to talk about. So Dean let it go, not wanting to push Castiel, and he lay down on the mat as Castiel told him to do so. Once more the tension between them was painfully noticeable, the silence felt a little bit uncomfortable. Castiel explained briefly what they were doing today, and he and Dean both warmed up before they began the stretching exercises, lying side to side on the mats. When they were done, Dean thought his body was as bendy as those of yoga instructors, his muscles and sinews tingled warmly, fully relaxed. Castiel got to his knees and knelt down beside Dean's side. Their eyes rested on each other, when Castiel placed one hand on Dean's inner thigh and one on his hip. He had a firm grip and he beheld Dean with a steady, intense glance, which made Dean breathless, thoughtless. Castiel was so close, his touches so warm and reassuring...

Heat radiated from Castiel's lean, muscular body, Dean thought he could feel the strength of his limbs, and the energy of his body overflowing him easily. Though he seemed hard to read, Dean enjoyed the careful smile Castiel gave him, for it was undeniably honest and sweet; then he let Cas uplift his leg and rotate it in midair in small circles. Dean heard his hip joint crack disgustingly, he felt how strenuous the movement appeared to his damaged calf, and it trembled underneath his therapist's tight grip.

Castiel's eyes darted over his, Dean watched how he bit his bottom lip, how he bruised the fine, pink skin with his teeth. Then he said "Sometimes", and smiled at Dean charmingly, looking him deeply in the eyes while he continued bending and rotating his patient's calf gently. Dean frowned, not understanding what Castiel was referring to, and the smile on those sinful lips became wider; Castiel chuckled softly.

"I do get lonely sometimes, but I get along with it. I guess we all feel lonely sometimes, right?", he said with calm words, producing unimaginable heat in the depths of Dean's stomach. He just loved the sound of Castiel's voice, and that he was slowly opening up to him made Dean speechless, filled his heart with bliss. Dean didn't know what had made Castiel change his mind, but he was glad he was answering his question after all.

"Don't you have family close by? I never get lonely with Sammy stuck like a bur to me", Dean grinned. Something flickered in Castiel's eyes, a curtain of pain, and his face fell oddly. He averted his glance and wore a thoughtful mien for a second, concentrating on Dean's maimed calf as he moved it with aimed, smooth movements.

"I envy you, I don't have siblings. There's no more family. My father passed away when I was a teenager, my mother died last year", Castiel admitted quietly, and Dean's heart churned with a squeezing ache of terrible sympathy. He had never meant to upset Castiel, though it felt wonderful to get to know him better. When Castiel raised his eyes to Dean's, the blue orbs were filled with a grim determination and years of suffering – they seemed wise and old to Dean, he was aware he was staring into a soul, which had seen a lot, which had aged all too fast.

"I'm sorry", he gasped, feeling like he had crossed a line, and Castiel blinked friendly at him, showing he wasn't offended because of the inconsiderate question. For a few moments they were still, and Dean allowed Castiel to turn him on his side, so that he could uplift his hurt leg in an awkward motion, making Dean utterly embarrassed – Castiel was kneeling in front of him now, and his appearance was pretty distracting. Dean's eyes travelled over his slim stomach, hidden underneath his white shirt, to the V-neck. Protruding lines of his collarbones were visible, and Dean felt his breath quicken as he thought about biting into them, gnawing at them hungrily. There was a luscious, lengthy neck, and Dean would have done a lot to be permitted to suck at the smooth skin, to leave dark hickeys in the crook of Castiel's neck.

The seconds elapsed, and Dean was busy observing how Castiel's Adam's apple slightly bounced whenever he gulped. The arousing sight in front of him, paired with the slender, powerful fingers working on his thigh, was dizzying, almost too much for Dean. At long last his eyes came to rest on Castiel's, and he realized his therapist's cheeks were as red as a beet while he smiled hesitantly at Dean. He had probably noticed Dean's consuming eyes on him.

Castiel's pupils were dilated, and he was biting down on his bottom lip sensually, the sight making Dean's crotch flush with blood and heat. Dean shifted uncomfortably on the mat, feeling beads of sweat on his back and between his thighs. His heart was racing so fast, he thought he had to pass out any second.

"What about you? Do you have family in addition to Sam?", Castiel asked finally, his voice sounding thick and brittle with arousal, if Dean wasn't mistaken, and relief diffused in Dean's stomach when he heard his question. For a God-given moment, he was able to forget about his body's sensitiveness or what a tumult Castiel was easily causing inside of him. Instead, flashbacks of Mary and John came to his mind, and he grimaced joylessly, looking away from Castiel's prying eyes.

"Nah, my parents are both dead, like your folks. My mom died when I was a kid, my dad died a few months ago. Well, actually he was killed, but that doesn't change the end result", Dean said pensively, trying to make a joke, but Castiel saw right through his crappy attitude. He held in his breath when he laid eyes on Castiel regarding him with a knowing look.

"That must have been difficult for you. How are you coping with it?", he asked, concern painfully discernible in his blue irises. Dean's heart convulsed with misery and a blooming love for his therapist – no one had ever asked him like that, because they knew Dean would never talk about it. Sometimes he wished he could become talkative with Sam, but he couldn't stand his agony mirrored in his younger brother's eyes; so they just shut up about it and pretended to be fine. It wasn't healthy, but it seemed easier. There was something lingering in Castiel's eyes that made Dean want to show him everything – maybe it was Castiel's honest interest, maybe it was the fact Castiel had opened up to him too.

"I'm not doing so great, to be honest. I don't think Sam's managing well either. I mean, it's only been a few months...", he mumbled, worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. Castiel smiled gently at him, and Dean felt relaxed, soothed, though his therapist hadn't even uttered a word. For a moment, he stopped the motions he had put Dean's leg through, and he placed a warm hand on Dean's shoulder and looked him deeply in the eyes; Dean felt fidgety and at ease simultaneously.

"Don't worry. You will be fine, the both of you. These things just take some time. I've also faced some dark chapters in my life, like everybody else does at some point, and I muddled through. Don't ask me how, but I did", he ended with a light chuckle, placing a tender smile on Dean's mouth. He was grateful for Castiel's kind words, and how the man pressed his shoulder comfortingly. He thought he could get used to the warm, mellow look Castiel gave him, it set something alight inside his chest. They returned their attention to Dean's leg once more, and Dean let Castiel do some weird stretching exercises. His leg was already trembling, and a piercing pain was rising within his flesh, but he gritted his teeth and kept quiet about it. Castiel stopped after a while, his eyes scrutinizing Dean's features attentively, reading him like an open book. Without words, he lowered Dean's calf carefully and beheld his patient with a long look, while his hands rested on his own bended knees.

"Dean, are you in pain? Your leg is trembling", Castiel questioned caringly; Dean couldn't help but press his lips firmly together and nod his head slowly, confessing he was perceiving pain. It hurt awfully, incessantly. For a second he feared the inflammation would return. He had been raised like a soldier; it wasn't like him to admit he was in pain, only if his life depended on it. John would've ripped him a new one and told him to take it like a man, not like a wuss. However, he couldn't withstand Castiel's stern glare, and he felt miserable when he saw disappointment coming to his fine facial structure. He sighed and patted Dean's knee friendly, trying to smile at him.

"You should have told me, Dean. This is not something to make fun of. If you're in pain, the healing process won't be quickened; it will only be slowed down. Now, let me have a look at how bad it is...", Castiel explained worriedly, and Dean felt like a child, who was being scolded. Hell, he felt damn stupid for not telling Castiel sooner. Castiel's fingers massaged Dean's thigh and the area around his knee, and it felt kind of voluptuous to Dean. He watched Castiel's strict features, while he kneaded his flesh. He might have felt a little bit sorry for his behaviour, but he absolutely enjoyed Castiel's knowing hands on him, they relaxed and aroused him at the same time. Too soon they were gone again.

"It's not too bad, but I fear we shouldn't strain that leg further for now. I suggest we make sit-ups by tossing the medicine ball in turns", Castiel said, his voice sounding softer, and he smiled tenderly at Dean the moment Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Sit ups are always good", Castiel said tauntingly and shook Dean's shoulder kindly.

"In your world, maybe", Dean replied with a grin. He became flustered when he saw Castiel laid down in front of him, so that they were feet to feet. He could see his bended legs were slightly spread as he held the heavy medicine ball in his strong hands, his head raised so that he could meet Dean's eyes. Dean's mouth watered at the given look, his heart missing a beat. Maybe sit-ups weren't that bad after all.

TBC

Huh, they're getting closer each day… next chapter will contain a little more intimacy x3 So, please let me know what you think! It really motivates me to write and post faster xP


	5. Chapter 5

Hi ya everyone...! Sorry for the late update...! I promise, next week there will be two chapters posted. A huge thanks to everyone who commented or favored the story so far. I've talked with some of you via PM and that was really delightful – so, if you ever want to PM me, don't hesitate, I won't bite (just a bit *wiggles eyebrows seductively). Also, a lot of thanks again to the lovely Angelphoenixwings14, who beta-read this chapter for me x3 thank you hun, your input is really always appreciated! I've been told the ending of this chapter is sweet...? Let's see!

****Chapter 5** **

As it turned out, sit ups sucked, regardless of the place or the person you did them with. Dean knew why his torso was muscled but not quite a six-pack – he _hated_ sit-ups, he hated the quaver in his abdomen, he hated the burning feeling all over his stomach. Moreover, he hated doing sit-ups with a medicine ball – his arms were aching, his muscles complaining, while he and Castiel tossed the ball at each other whenever their upper bodies were upright and when they sat slightly up. He was panting and sweating, grumpy and annoyed, and Castiel's toothy winner's smile and the cheeky shimmer in his eyes weren't helping at all. The exercise seemed experienced and graceful when he did it, and though his therapist was slightly sweating and panting too, he wasn't nearly as miserable as Dean. Dean was certain he caught glimpses of the firm, well-toned stomach underneath the white shirt, scraps of tanned, smooth skin shwoing as the hem moved upwards. It made Dean want to throw that ball away and bend over him, bite into that lean flesh and let his tongue travel over it. How would Castiel's sweat taste? Would he gasp and sigh once Dean's teeth bruised his skin, once his hands would encompass his sharp hipbones?

"Cas, I can't go on any longer, you must be insane!", he gasped, and Castiel grinned broadly at him.

"No whining. Come on, five more minutes, then we'll do something else!", he said in between their sit-ups. His voice sounded rough and strained, but the happy smile on his face simply didn't disappear. "Let's talk, it will distract you from the movement", Castiel suggested, and Dean nodded enthusiastically, tossing the ball back to Castiel, who grabbed it with a grunted "Phew!".

"So, do you live somewhere here?", Castiel asked and threw the ball back to Dean, both going down again.

"No", Dean groaned. "I've been on the road all my life. I never stay long in one place, I gotta keep on moving, you know? I kind of live in my car and in motel rooms", he told Castiel with a breathy voice, maintaining the strenuous exercise all the while. He tried to remember all the towns he had seen, all the states he had been to; he was certain he couldn't list them all, there had simply been too many. Ever since his mother's death, John had kept them in motion, and after his death, Sam and Dean hadn't stopped either. Sometimes he wished he could lead an apple pie life, with a rented house or apartment, some place he could come home to after a long day of work. A room he could furnish the way he liked, neighbours whose name he would know, but this day wasn't in sight yet;maybe it would never come. It wasn't too bad though, the life on the road was exciting and rich in variety; it never became boring.

"Huh, I find it difficult to imagine such a life. I've always lived in this town. I bet you've seen hundreds of memorable places and sights on your way", Castiel gasped for breath, pitching the heavy ball back to Dean. He had never thought of it this way, but Castiel was right – he had seen a lot of things in his life, for which other people had saved their money to have a look at the same things he had passed by, taking them for granted. He wondered what it must be like, to lead a life like Castiel, to live in the same town for all those years. It seemed unimaginable to him, and though he kind of envied his therapist, a cold shudder of disapproval ran down his spine. The next time he caught the medicine ball, he didn't throw it back and laid down on his back with a lengthy sigh, announcing "I'm done, no more sit-ups!", whereupon he heard Castiel's deep inhaling. A second later, his nimble fingers brushed over Dean's and took the ball out of his hands and placed it aside. He lay down beside Dean, and they turned their heads to smile tentatively at each other, huffing and puffing.

Dean loved to watch the small rivulets of sweat running down Castiel's temples and cheeks, over his neck and down to the fine line of his collarbones. He was breathing fast, his lips were slightly parted, and it gave Dean all the wrong ideas, none of them appropriate to utter.

"What are we doing now?", he asked, confused about the moment of sweet idleness. Castiel's smile became more vivid, and his eyes sparkled brightly at Dean, while pins and needles were working inside his stomach. How could he do that to him so easily? Make him feel weightless and light-headed with just a smile? Castiel's hands were wafting through the air, he was pointing at the ground and them vaguely.

"I think we're allowed to rest for the last 10 minutes of this session, don't you agree? You've done enough for now, let your body slacken for a moment... oh, and while we're at it, tell me of those places you've been to", Castiel said, and it made Dean smile. He could see the naïve excitement in his regard, how he longed to hear about funny adventures and known places of interest. He couldn't deny him this simple request, so he rummaged about in his brain for fitting memories.

"Uh, I've... well, I've driven on the Golden Gate Bridge, when we were in San Francisco. And no, I didn't wear flowers in my hair", he joked, thinking about Scott McKenzie's song. It was one of the happier remembrances he had; the radio had played some quiet rock song, and for once, John had been in a good mood. Sam had slept in the back seat, and Dean had been sitting next to his dad. He must have been, what, 14 or 15 or so, and it had been summer, a few weeks, which had felt like a proper vacation to them all. The golden sunlight had cut through the thick fog surrounding the bridge in the early morning, while they crossed the sea underneath them. He felt Castiel's contemplative eyes resting on him, eager for more.

"You, uh... you get a very different respect for the ocean, when you know it's a few hundred meters beneath you, you know? Especially at that time, we didn't see the water, we just knew it was there. The bridge is always wrapped up in adamant fog in the morning and the evening, so all I could actually see was lush, golden sunlight and white mist, you know? It looked kind of nice, though, ethereal, as if time stood still...", he heard himself say, as he tried to describe it for Castiel, and Castiel's look became incredibly tender. Dean felt his cheeks blush the moment he realised what he had said – when had he become so sappy? He knew it had something to do with Castiel's presence; he blamed those knowing, innocent features... He simply couldn't help but feel accepted and understood in his company, it felt effortless to be himself.

"That sounds lovely... I wish I could have seen it too", Castiel mused, gnawing at his bottom lip. It made Dean feel regret, regret for this man, who obviously wanted to see more of the world beyond this town; he couldn't stand the frown on his face, so he nudged his rib playfully and gave him a smirk, when the blue eyes met his green ones.

"Hey, it's nothing you've missed, and anyway, it's not like you're an old man, you can still see it if you like. Also, I bet you've seen thousand great things too. Or you've done things I've never been able to. Don't get me wrong, the road is my home and I feel like I belong there, but sometimes I think it would be a nice for a change to stay at one place for more than just a few days, you know?" Castiel nodded slowly, and a hesitant smile returned to his soft, pink lips. For a while, comfortable silence lingered between them. Dean was inwardly marveling at how quickly they had gained an understanding for the other. It felt like he knew Castiel longer than just two lousy days, and still, he knew there was more to discover. His heart beat vehemently and rapidly in his chest, the more he drowned in those gorgeous eyes, the longer he stared at this sweet smile... A desperate urge thrived inside of him, he was about to grab the hand of Castiel, which lay idly next to his hip, and to hold it for a while in his – but then, there was a knock at the door, which startled them both.

"Castiel, Misses Pendula is on her way, she said she got distracted by her husband's call, that's why she's a little late", a dark-haired woman said; she was wearing a white uniform as well and gave them a kind smile. Castiel nodded and thanked her, and she was gone like the wind. Castiel got up and reached out his hand to help Dean stand up. It was a little bit weird to stand in front of each other once more, after they had started opening up to each other – now Dean had to leave again, but he ached to keep talking with Castiel. Castiel was blushing hard while their eyes observed the other, and he smiled fondly at Dean. It stirred a warmth within Dean, that clung to his heart and mind forcefully; all he wanted was to embrace this man and hold him in his arms. Instead he said "I guess I'll see you later?" and Castiel nodded, confirming he should meet him here at 5. His arms and legs didn't feel like his own as he made his way back to his own room with difficulty, leaving Castiel behind. It was peculiar to lay down in his bed again and to know Castiel was within the same building, only a few hundred meters away, but somehow so very out of reach.

…

Dean was reflective the whole day through, thinking about his conversation with Castiel. Cas made him feel privileged for his different lifestyle, though Dean was certain, he wouldn't repeat his words as soon as he knew everything about Dean, as soon as he saw the whole, ugly truth behind the farce. He was so quiet, Ash and Garth were giving him worried looks as they sat in the common room and played poker.

"I don't know, I don't like that broody face of yours, buddy", Ash muttered, then he sipped on his coffee. Dean was startled out of his thoughts and drew a card. His eyes darted over Garth's and Ash's, both scrutinizing him attentively.

"What, you mean me?", he asked, trying to sound surprised. Great, so now he wasn't even hiding his weird emotional life anymore; he really needed to relax or watch out for his behaviour. Garth smiled sympathetically at him, and Ash grinned.

"Seriously, dude. Cheer up! It's just your second day in here. You will go nuts if you spend too much time on your thoughts. Told you, you've got to find some distraction. Why don't you join me and go to the art class or do crochet like Ash?", Garth suggested, putting an amused smile on Dean's face as Ash confirmed "I can crochet like a god", and he scoffed when Ash wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

"No offense, Garth, but that's really not my thing, you know? I think I better find a liquor store and get drunk. I really don't know how you two are doing it, I can't imagine being here for weeks. I mean, there's stuff I gotta do, you know? And my brother's out there all by himself, he could use my support", Dean told them earnestly, receiving thoughtful looks in return.

"You know, Dean, that's why most of the people are here, if you ask me. They always think they need to do this or that and they bite off more than they can chew, and whoops! They're hurting themselves and end up here. The world has to learn to get along without you. Don't you think we've got stuff to do, too? Hell, Garth here has a whole farm, his wife has to organise everything until he's healed. No matter what you do, it won't accelerate the healing process of your leg, got it? So you better find yourself something to do in here before you lose your mind", Ash rambled, and Dean actually took it to heart. He nodded wordlessly and grabbed the course catalogue, which lay on the table, making Garth laugh heartily and Ash grin. Listlessly he skimmed the pages, getting stuck when he saw a poetry course, which would discuss known writings. It was twice a week, right after lunch; he had secretively always been interested in poetry, how people were able to make you feel such strong emotions with just a few lines. To this day, no one he knew was even aware of his hidden love for rimes and verses, but he decided to give this offer a try.

"You're losing again, by the way", Ash commented and put his cards on the table. Dean eyed them, knowing, Ash was right indeed(;) he had lost again. Damn it.

…

Dean was just getting ready to hobble to Castiel's room, when his therapist walked into Dean's room, wearing a dark blue, short jacket. Confused he took in his appearance, wondering why he was wearing the jacket. Weren't they supposed to train any second now? Castiel gave him a broad, heartfelt smile and stroked through his dark, combed hair, apparently nervous.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to relocate the session and go outside. The weather's fine, and you could use some fresh air. If you have a sweater, that'd be best to wear for the workout", Castiel explained, and Dean was somewhat glad to have a reason for leaving the building. He was accustomed to being outside most of the time, be it on a hunt or when he drove the Impala, it was unfamiliar to spend this much time indoors. So he agreed with a nod and walked to the wardrobe with his crutches, grabbing his worn out, grey sweater. He donned it quickly and accompanied Castiel with a slow pace as they walked silently along the corridor. He appreciated how patient Castiel was, that he didn't complain once about Dean's snail pace, for he was already annoyed by it himself.

When they came outside, the sun was still shining, though the cloudless sky above them was about to darken. The air was spicy and a little bit cold; it was early in spring, and the winter hadn't loosened its tight grip completely yet. Castiel led Dean towards the deserted park; only a few joggers and patients were walking in it, it was either too icy, or they had better things to do than to be in a park on a workday (probably sewing courses, Dean thought bitterly). He let his eyes wander, as he considered the area. He could see his own breath, and how the sunlight fell on the greening, large lawn ahead of them. The trees of the surrounding avenues were putting forth the first buds, new leaves growing on their branches. There was a climbing frame in sight, in the middle of the lawn, and as Castiel headed for it with confident steps, Dean felt his heart sink to his boots.

"Oh, no, come on, man, you must be joking!", he exclaimed, as he became aware of Castiel's intentions. Castiel turned around to him while they were walking, and gave Dean a wide smile and winked at him. He felt breathless, speechless, as he regarded the joyous sparkle in Castiel's stunning pair of eyes; hey were practically bursting with life and vividness. Castiel looked beautiful in the declining, golden sunlight, his hair seemed darker, his eye colour richer, his skin precious. Dean almost forgot to complain.

"Bring it on, Dean! I will even participate, so that you'll see it's manageable", Castiel spoke, but it didn't exactly raise Dean's spirits.

"You're trying to kill me", he pouted, whereupon Castiel just laughed. They came to a halt when they reached the abandoned climbing frame, and Dean eyed the iron bars and wooden bridges, meant for children, of course, skeptically. He let his crutches fall to the floor and stood face to face with Castiel, who still smiled, unperturbed with Dean's sulky mien.

They ended up making their way hand over hand along the iron bars above their heads, training their biceps and triceps in the process. Dean felt his whole torso shake, the movements being quite strenuous. He cursed Castiel's thick jacket, because he couldn't gape at his surely firm, muscled upper arms. He felt like an ape, as they repeated the motion countless times, hoisting their weight solely with their hands along the structure. His hands were freezing thanks to the iron bars. He watched Castiel swing himself a few steps away as Dean held himself on the bars, a broad grin on the therapist's face. Dean scoffed and shook his head; he couldn't help but envy Castiel's athletic figure and stamina.

When they were done with their workout an hour later, Dean felt like his whole upper body was burning. He was sweating, and the evening's wind was drying the perspiration underneath his sweater all too quickly. After their apelike climbing, Castiel and he had done push-ups and exhausting stretching exercises. Dean's pecs ached, his arms quavered, his back felt used – but altogether, he felt relaxed, wonderfully spent. Soon it would be time for dinner, but neither he nor Castiel said a word about it. They sat on the cold, grassy ground, Castiel cross-legged, Dean with outstretched legs, his palms placed behind him. Above them, the sky was dipped into a light blue, the first silvery stars were appearing on the firmament. The park was emptying, and from the distance, Dean could see the lights of the rehab-center. He didn't want to leave Castiel so soon; tomorrow wouldn't be early enough to see him again. He loved to hear him breathing next to him, he loved the scent of his sweet sweat, mingled with a soapy smell; they were sitting so close to each other, that he was certainhe could feel Castiel's body heat blanketing his side, which was facing Castiel's.

"So, have you found an occupation already? If you haven't heard of it before, we have a diverse course offer", Castiel said into the silence, and Dean turned his head and beheld him with a pensive look and a smile he couldn't hold back.

"Actually, yeah... I'm thinking about joining this poetry course. Don't laugh at me, I'm kind of entranced with poetry. It was one of the only things that kept me interested back in school...", Dean confessed. Somehow, he was positive Castiel wouldn't make fun of him for saying such a silly thing. He lost himself in Castiel's blue eyes, which were darker and dilated in the evening's twilight. He looked so hauntingly beautiful, it touched the deepest foundations of Dean's heart, he felt a profound warmth growing within his chest. If only he could kiss those soft lips, claim them for himself... Castiel smiled and averted his glance, he tilted his head and looked up into the sky above them and sighed, and Dean had time to look his fill on Castiel's fine structured features.

"Oh, plunge me deep in love – put out my senses, leave me deaf and blind, swept by the tempest of your love, a taper in a rushing wind", Castiel suddenly said quietly, making Dean's skin crawl effortlessly. It shook him deeply, to hear Castiel's sweet words, he assumed he was reciting a poem. A blazing fire burnt within him, having something to do with the way Castiel turned to him and smiled tenderly. He was slowly but certainly turning to jelly, melting right in front of Castiel. The attraction between them was tangible, making it difficult to breathe. Castiel's cold fingers brushed over Dean's outstretched hand, their eyes never leaving each other, and he placed his palm confidently on Dean's chilly fingers. Dean heard his own heartbeat vibrating loudly and excitingly in his ears, delight bloomed inside his mind. He turned his hand and grasped Castiel's and held it firmly in his.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me", Castiel teased with gentle words. It was the trashiest thing Dean had done in a long time, but he let his thumb stroke the back of Castiel's hand in small circles. They both put their heads back and gazed at the stars above them, a silent understanding lingering between them, as they kept holding hands. They didn't need words for the moment. Dean felt light-headed, overjoyed, at having a huge crush on his therapist. Castiel's words resounded in his ears, his heart didn't want to calm down. Dean perceived his cheeks blushing severely, as Castiel's fingers intertwined perfectly with his.

****TBC** **

So? What do you think? I'd love to read your thoughts x3 *hint hint* Hope you or we all survive 9x03. Btw, the poem recited in this is called "I am not yours" by Sara Taesdale. Once the story is finished I'll make an overview for all the poems recited in this. Until then...!


	6. Chapter 6

The poem recited in this chapter is called "Touched by An Angel" by Maya Angelou. Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter or gave kudos! UPDATE - now with the improvements of the lovely Faith Valconbridge aka fvalconbridge aka superpotterlock, who beta-read this chapter for me! I totally forgot about that, thank you hun and sorry to those who already read the chapter! Luckily we recognized the same mistakes, though her input enhanced some sentences in this x3 kudos!

**Chapter 6**

The chilly night's wind played with their hair and clothes, tugged ruggedly at them. Earth frost spread on the ground, and soon it became too cold to keep sitting on the meadow. Castiel got up at first and held out his hand to help Dean stand up too. Dinner time was long passé; they had spent too much time holding hands, regarding the starry firmament, absorbed in their own thoughts. None of them mentioned their sudden willingness to become intimately physical with each other as they slowly walked back to the rehab-clinic. Their eyes fled to each other time and again, careful smiles crawled to their lips. At some point Castiel poked Dean amicably in the ribs with his elbow, surprising Dean as he met his mellow gaze while they kept walking.

"Sorry I made you miss dinner," Castiel apologised, Dean scoffed. "Don't worry, I guess it's bearable to forfeit vegetables and fish bonne femme," he dead-panned, placing an amused toothy grin on Castiel's mouth. "Still, I try and compensate for it; maybe someone will steal something out of the kitchen. Though I've heard of no such thing," Castiel joked, making Dean grin too. He felt all tingly inside to converse with Castiel so nonchalantly, and if he slowed his pace even more, it was solely because he didn't want to return to his room all so soon. He was pleasantly surprised when he understood Castiel accompanied him to his room, and so, they had more time to talk.

"That thing you recited only just, that was pretty awesome. Is it something you wrote?" Dean asked, as they strolled along the empty corridors. The patients were either in their chambers or in the common room, watching TV with others. Castiel chuckled lightly and shook his head.

"Nah, it's just one of the poems that stuck to my head. My mother had plenty of poem collections at home, she loved those books. And she always had a poem for every situation. I guess other mothers sang to their children when they were small, my mother always recited poetry for me," he explained, and a tender expression surfaced in his deep blue, lucid eyes. Dean admired the soft blush coming to his therapist's cheeks, he seemed a little bit embarrassed to have admitted such a private thing. No matter how often Dean made jokes about these moments, especially with Sam, he couldn't and didn't want to abuse Castiel's openness, he didn't want him to feel awkward because he had revealed something personal to Dean. So he nudged Castiel's side friendly and smiled when their eyes met.

"My mother used to sing to me, though she only ever sang 'Hey Jude' by the Beatles, you know? Weird lullaby for a kid if you ask me, but I can still hear her voice singing it. She had a great voice," Dean said pensively. They came to Dean's room and walked inside. Dean heaved a sigh of relief when he sat down on the comfortable bed, feeling the mattress move underneath his weight. Castiel leaned against the doorframe and beheld Dean with an unreadable smile as his eyes were glued to Dean's.

"Has she been dead for a long time?" Castiel asked, and Dean nodded, averting his glance.

"She died in a fire when I was four; Sammy was only six months old at that time. Been on the road ever since", he conceded, wondering why he didn't try harder to conceal his true self. It felt so damn good and relieving to talk with someone about it, with someone he knew would understand him, because Castiel had lost his parents too. Castiel approached him and sat down on the bed next to Dean, his hands in his lap; he let his head hang down, briefly he gave Dean a side glance. His blue eyes appeared savage and nervous to Dean.

"And still you remember her voice... huh... It's one of the things I've been afraid of ever since my parents died. That one day you won't be able to remember their faces, and their photos seem strange to you, unfamiliar. That you don't remember their voices, the look of their eyes... it all fades away one day, you know?"

Dean gathered his courage while he beheld Castiel's strict thoughtful mien, feeling pity and a great ache tearing in his chest. He reached out his hand and took Castiel's in his, holding it gently but with a firm grip. Castiel lifted his head and met Dean's eyes. A warm sentiment rattled through Dean, as his thumb stroked the back of Castiel's hand soothingly, as he drew a tiny smile from his therapist. He looked divine in the dim light of the bedside lamp; Dean hungered to kiss that brittle smile, to feel those soft lips move against his slowly, in detail.

"Even when the memories become blurry during the years, the feelings won't change. You will always remember how you felt about them, how they felt about you. No one can take that away from you, not even time itself," Dean assured him with quiet words. He saw Castiel gulp heavily as if a terrible pain was strangling his throat, and tears were welling in his eyes as he squeezed Dean's hand and nodded wordlessly. He clicked his tongue with a sudden, bitter expression, and then he got up and brushed over his eyes with the back of his hand, walking towards the door again. He turned around and stopped before he left Dean, smiling tenderly at him.

"I'll get you some grub, I'll be back in a few minutes," he said with a shaky voice. Dean gazed after him in awe, aware he had touched a sore point of Castiel's innermost thoughts. He wondered if he was supposed to apologize for talking to Castiel so thoughtlessly, or whether he had done something wrong. Before he could consider it further, his cell phone rang, showing Sam's name. He answered the call immediately, lying down in his bed wholly. For the length of his conversation with Sam he didn't have to think about Castiel and his relationship to the therapist. Sam told him he hadn't found further traces of demonic activities; he was currently stationed in a small town a few hundred miles away, working on a case of ghost possession. Dean listened attentively and gave some words of advice, though he knew Sam could handle this problem on his own.

A few moments later Castiel returned to Dean's room, carrying a tablet with steaming, deliciously smelling casserole. He put it down on Dean's nightstand, giving him a loveable smile that made Dean all flabbergasted and nervous. He almost forgot to listen to Sam's words as Castiel whispered "I'll see you tomorrow," pointing at Dean's cell phone. Before he could go, Dean heard himself say "Sam, hold on a sec, alright?", then he held the phone against his chest so that Sam wouldn't be able to hear him.

Dean seized Castiel's hand with his, holding it loosely while he looked up into those gorgeous blue wells. Castiel turned to him and smiled gently at him, making Dean light-headed and wonderfully infatuated with his therapist.

"I didn't say anything inappropriate back then, did I? Are we okay?" he asked gingerly, feeling himself blush crimson, his cheeks heated up effortlessly. Castiel's look became tender; he stroked Dean's back of the hand with his fingers and smiled at him affectionately.

"No, you didn't. We're good, Dean. Have a good night," he replied with his dark voice, making Dean's skin crawl. A hot sensation flooded his insides, his spine tingled, his heart leapt into his throat. He nodded and returned the smile. "Thanks, Cas. You too", he said, and Castiel winked at him and left him with his late dinner and Sam on the phone.

"Aww, was that your, what's his name, Cassandra, Casper, Casio?" Sam teased, whereupon Dean rolled his eyes, trying to stuff his face with the awesome dish Castiel had brought him. He was almost certain they hadn't served this for dinner tonight; he must have gotten a special treat.

"His name is Castiel, you dumbo, and yes, that was him", Dean growled, ignoring Sam's hearty laughter.

"Hm, you seem kind of hot for his knickers", Sam noted, enhancing the blush lingering on Dean's cheeks.

"You shut your cakehole; it's none of your business. Even if, doesn't matter, I'll be gone in like six weeks."

The severity of his own words came crushing down on him, realisation set in. He wouldn't be here forever, in a few weeks he would be on the road again, continuing his life like he always did. Flings had never been important, love interests had never mattered – they had never had the privilege to care. He and Castiel weren't even a fling, but it left a feeling of emptiness, a gloomy, black hole inside him, to think about leaving the young man behind. He was barely concentrating on his phone talk with Sam anymore, he was so out of it.

…

The rest of the week passed quicker than Dean would have liked. He spent his free time with Ash and Garth, every day he trained twice with Castiel, and he took part in the poetry course he had signed up for. It was weird to talk about poetry with others, to unpick every line, every verse, to search for the maximum of meaning without restraint. Dean had never spoken so openly about his own thoughts and feelings with strangers – there were several old ladies in the course who seemed to have cast an eye at him, who listened to his interpretations with patient smiles and a joyous glitter in their crinkled eyes. The course instructor was an elderly bearded man, who turned out to be kind and who gave them interesting poems as the subject for a discussion every time. He was certain, his dad would have scolded him for this kind of dalliance, and Sam would have probably laughed or told him he was proud of him – but it didn't matter to Dean. For once he was happy to dive into a thing he liked without being judged for it.

Whenever they looked closely at a love poem though, he couldn't help but think of Castiel. He felt deeply connected to his therapist by now, although not even a whole week had passed. His sweet smile appeared in his mind's eye, his blue, melancholic eyes regarded him, when he lost himself while he read those specific poems over and over again. It made his flesh crawl, and he smiled to himself, letting his thumb brush over the piece of printed paper in front of him.

"We are weaned from our timidity / in the flush of love's light / we dare to be brave / and suddenly we see / that love costs all we are / and will ever be. / Yet it is only love / which sets us free"; it made Dean feel a horrendous ache for something he had forbidden himself a long, long time ago. A desire pounded within him to have what he hadn't had in all these years, a stable relationship, intimacy, which lasted longer than a single night, longer than a few weeks. Togetherness. He had always thought he couldn't have such a thing, as well as he couldn't have a normal, boring, safe life. So why did it bother him so badly that he couldn't satisfy his heart's wishes when it came to this matter? Why couldn't he stop thinking about Cas, why didn't the daydreams about an unattainable future with him end?

These thoughts didn't leave him, not even or _especially not_ when he was together with Castiel. By now it was a Friday. It was late in the afternoon, and Dean lay on a roll mat in Castiel's office. The therapist was kneeling beside him, holding Dean's upper thigh and knee bend with his two hands in a firm grip. He moved Dean's injured leg in careful rotations and flexed it with slow movements, his eyes darting between Dean's calf and his face as if he was estimating Dean's condition. Sometimes Dean frowned as the idea of pain played in the background of his awareness, and in these moments Castiel stopped the exercise, meeting Dean's mellow look with a soft smile and a nod, sometimes accompanied by a hum.

"The muscle is getting stronger, but your body tells us both where to stop, and we just have to accept that", he explained with a soothing, deep voice once Dean gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes in annoyance as another wave of pain made them halt for a while. It was becoming a habit that Castiel distracted Dean from the movements and the odd feeling between strength and weakness lingering in his leg with questions about his journeys. They never specifically spoke about Dean's profession, skipping this topic cautiously, but there were enough other things Dean could tell Castiel about.

Dean, in his stead, started to let it become a habit to let his eyes linger on Castiel's calm features observing him or his body while he chatted. He had learned to read his facial expressions, and now it was easy to see the littlest smile on those chapped plump lips while he spoke. And Dean spoke a lot, he couldn't even remember when he had spoken so carefree and emotionally the last time, or if he had ever talked like that. It came naturally in Castiel's presence, there was no way he could maintain his usual filter. It should have scared him or worried him at least, but it simply electrified him, fascinated him. Maybe it was down to the fact that Castiel listened so attentively, that he absorbed Dean's words so hungrily, and still he was asking for more – it made Dean light-headed, filled him with a bliss he couldn't put into words. Castiel seemed to bring out another side of him, a side he had buried a long time ago.

"... and the woods in the evening, when the sun is setting, above the trees you can still see the pink and orange glow, but on the road it is already night, and there's darkness and silence between the tree trunks. It's kind of beautiful, you should see it someday...", Dean mumbled drowsily; he was still worn out from their first workout session this morning - an awful lot of climbing stairs and walking in a course with his crutches. He loved the tender gleam coming to Castiel's eyes, and how affectionately he smiled at him, their glances glued to each other for a moment. Dean's heart skipped a beat; he saw Castiel's cheek become rosy-tinted. His pupils seemed dilated, and Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from those sinful lips, slightly opened. Castiel sighed and averted his eyes, focusing on Dean's leg once more.

"Your life sounds like an adventure. I wish mine was only half as exciting," he said quietly, making Dean's insides cringe with guilt and sympathy. He had never meant to make Castiel feel like his life wasn't interesting enough just because he had stayed in one town in his existence. Dean sighed too and took Castiel's hand in his, away from his upper thigh. Within the last days they had started touching their hands more freely, less restrained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Dean still tried to persuade himself there wasn't more behind it, no hidden agenda, no motives of the heart. His fingers embraced Castiel's and he squeezed them lightly; Castiel lifted his head, meeting Dean's eyes with a vulnerable, wild look. He appeared like a deer in the headlights to Dean: beautiful, petrified, uncertain. He longed to reach out his hand and cup Castiel's fine cheek, to feel the scarce stubble underneath his fingertips and tell him everything was alright with him, that there was nothing wrong with him or the way he led his life.

"Trust me, it's no adventure. It's rather an obsession I can't quit, and it's dangerous and bloody; it's a thankless task. I'm only ever telling you about those things I cherish, that make my daily life easier. There've been times when I couldn't see anything good around me, and I was so close to drop the whole thing... but... you know, I'm still able to extract advantages from it mostly."

Castiel intertwined his fingers with Dean's gently, squeezing Dean's hand. He nodded and looked down again, his fingers brushed against Dean's while they kept holding hands.

"Is that why you're sleeping with a monster knife underneath your pillow?"

Dean inhaled sharply, it felt like a punch in his guts, and he and Castiel shared a quick look, which Castiel held firmly. He smiled at Dean.

"Don't worry, the chambermaid told me the other morning, after she had changed the sheets of your bed. She found a knife under your pillow and described it to me like something only Chuck Norris would carry with him. It's not exactly forbidden to bring weapons into this rehab-center, but I could have collected it, had I felt the need. I figured you wouldn't go berserk on everyone, so I let you have it. Can't help but wonder about it, though... You're the first patient I had who has a knife. Others had firearms, members of the National Rifle Association et cetera… but no one ever had a knife," Castiel told him, keeping his eyes attached to Dean's. Dean wanted to laugh when Castiel mentioned Chuck Norris, the next second he wanted to tell him everything about his life, and that he had other weapons too – but there was no way he could reveal the family secret. As much as he wanted to, he wasn't allowed to. It wouldn't hurt anyone though to convey some of it to Castiel, the outlines at least.

"I grew up with a lot of weapons, and I think I can operate most of them. Bow and arrow, guns, knives, and so on... My dad taught me how to shoot when I was six, told me I was hawk-eyed," Dean chuckled; it was a happy memory, which came to his mind. Though he knew deep inside, this was where the first stone of his way had been paved, a road, which led to violence, killings, blood and tears. The smile faded slightly when Castiel spoke to him again, a knowing, pensive glimmer in his eyes.

"And you said he was killed? I don't want to sound smug, but I've heard those who surround themselves with weapons are often killed by them as well..."

Dean didn't take offence at Castiel's words; he couldn't blame him, because he was right. John could have chosen to turn away from the supernatural life; he could have pretended none of the ghosts or demons or other nasty things existed, he could have tried to lead a simple life. Instead he had chosen a dangerous, brutal life, and he had paid the price. He felt Castiel pressing his hand tightly, their warm palms were conjoined. Flashbacks of his father's death appeared in Dean's mind, and he gulped heavily, trying to shove the pain aside.

"Too true..." he confessed, and Castiel inhaled deeply, his thumb stroking over Dean's thumb caringly.

"Hey, I feel kind of bad; you told me so much about yourself the whole week. I feel like I owe you," Castiel said with a terribly beautiful, toothy smile – immediately the bad memories faded away, and Dean soaked up this gorgeous smile, seeing how it reached those deep, blue eyes. He replied with a smirk, feeling ease spreading inside his belly.

"If you want to, you could come over tomorrow. There are no workouts on weekends because so many patients have visitors. I live nearby, but I could pick you up... and maybe, just maybe, I'll cook you something less healthy," Castiel said – his smile wavered between nervousness and confidence, his tenseness somehow made Dean feel flattered, ensnared even. He couldn't hinder the blush which tainted his whole face and neck thoroughly. If he didn't misunderstand Castiel completely, he wanted to get to know him better – and he couldn't shrug off the idea that it sounded suspiciously like a date.

"Sounds awesome, I'm in", he agreed with a grin.

Friday night Dean had troubles falling asleep – the last nights he had slept peacefully, though Castiel had come to his mind countless times. This night, it was worse. He could feel his hand entangled with his, the phantom pressure of his fingertips against his back of the hand. Those endless, deep eyes examining him, the sweet smile he had brought to those lips... Dean could still smell Castiel's wonderful, harsh-sweetish scent, it filled his lungs. And his body, oh God, his firm, lean body... Tomorrow was all Dean could think of – tomorrow he would spend a whole evening at his side. It made him grin like a pubescent teenager; he felt pleasant anticipation rushing through his body. Tomorrow.

**TBC**

If you're still with me and interested in this story, please let me know! Also, if you have a suggestion when I should post the next chapter(s), please tell me.


	7. Chapter 7

Phew, my darlings, what's going on? Thank you so much for all those lovely reviews and kudos I received recently! They made me very, very happy x3 A thousands of thanks to the gorgeous fvalconbridge aka superpotterlock for proofreading this chapter and saving you from horrible, embarrassing mistakes I made. Go and read her Destiel AU "A thousand beautiful things", will you? I can promise you things will get smoking hot xD Now, let's return to our sweeties...

**Chapter 7**

Dean didn't like the weekends in here, he had figured that out pretty soon. It meant he had way too much time to think and to ponder about things he rather forced back. Surely, on the road he had time to think as well, but it was a different kind of awareness filling his mind. He still had to concentrate on the case they were currently working on, or on the road signs, or the signals the Impala gave him. Only vague ideas clouded his head then, there was a turmoil of everything at once, so it was impossible to focus on just one thought. Here, in the rehab-center, he had all the time in the world to think about every frigging thing in detail, whether he wanted to or not. There wasn't much he could do to distract himself, so he gave way to his train of thoughts after all.

He was ill-humored after lunch. He was in no mood for company, having the mindfulness he would probably only dampen the mood of everyone around him. Dean thought he should have been excited, that there should have been at least some sparks of cheerfulness within him in regard to this Saturday's evening when he would see Castiel again. But he was simply too uptight and stressed with his brooding that he couldn't really look forward to their date tonight. There were many things which bothered Dean today. Maybe it was just a temporary blues, and tomorrow he'd be able to laugh about himself and shake his worries off – but today he felt like he had fallen into a deep, black hole, and there was no way to escape it.

Somehow he had managed to walk outside, into the park he had been to with Castiel the other day. The sun was shining brightly, and the flowers were blooming. There still was no warmth in the sun, but it was evident - spring had finally arrived. The trees were almost completely green, the grass looked lush and fresh. Dean was exhausted when he reached a bench and sat down on it, placing his crutches next to him. For a while he leaned back against the wooden frame with closed eyes, enjoying the sun's rays resting on his face. He breathed in the clear air, felt the light breeze stroking through his hair.

He listened to the voices in his head, fighting with each other for dominance and reason. One sounded so very tired, it begged him to quit this life, to find peace and safety, some kind of stability. To let others feel this weight on his young shoulders, to let others save those innocent people and to kill those evil beings out there. It was the voice of a former Dean, one that had asked himself the same questions over and over again – when John had made them leave another town behind, along with new-made friends, lovers and schools. This former, child-like Dean, that had cried secretly to himself after killing another being, scared and alone, and with no one to talk about it.

The voice argued with another, the older version of Dean, who longed for closure and _revenge_. He still perceived the urge to find the damn son of a bitch who had killed his father. Though his and John's relationship had always been stony, he knew he owed that much to John, to their family. This older part of him was also furious and violent, _wanted_ to kill with his own two hands – half of him felt some kind of responsibility, as he knew a lot as a hunter to save others, on the other hand this part hungered to murder because of all the frustration and suppressed anger Dean felt.

He knew he was sometimes just an inch away from losing his sanity, and that alone should have been enough reason for everyone to stay away from him. He should have written a warning in red on his forehead, telling everyone to mind their own business, because Dean Winchester was a crazy, rowdy person, who could burst any second. A frown appeared on his forehead as those thoughts interfered with visions of Castiel. They weighed heavily on his heart, and he felt his shoulders slump promptly. The other man emitted such a peaceful aura, though it was intermingled with a beautiful kind of melancholy. His eyes, his smile, his gorgeous appearance, he was angelic to Dean, untainted, unless by some kind of pain at the utmost. It seemed wrong to drag him into this life, and Dean knew, it was only reasonable and responsible to stay away from him as far as possible. Who was he to befoul Castiel, and to dim the bright light of his soul? Who was he to demand everything from him, only to give him this piteous shard of a man he was in return?

It wasn't like Dean to reject an offer for a one-night stand when he fancied the person. Nor would he have had objections to start a fling, given the time and place, without regrets – because those two occasions mostly consisted out of sex without deeper meaning. If Castiel was willing, well, he could have had him the first night he had met him (he was that confident, because he knew exactly how to turn on the charm). The crazy thing was, regarding Castiel, as sappy as that sounded, he didn't want just sex. Of course, he was hot for his knickers, there was no way to deny it, and just the idea of sleeping with him made his pants uncomfortably tight and his mouth water. But there was something about him, something that struck Dean hard, right in the guts, that told him he wanted Castiel to stick around. He wanted to see those smashing eyes _every_ day, he never wanted to miss the adorable smile, nor the sound of Castiel's voice, his tentative touches... Maybe that was why Dean was so bad-tempered – he was slowly losing his nerves. He didn't want to ruin this evening, he didn't want to lose the opportunity to be close to Castiel.

Though he knew he would never deserve someone like Castiel, and though he knew he better stayed away from him for Castiel's own sake – he simply couldn't back off. He _needed_ more of Castiel, he needed to see him. At long last, the tiniest smile came to Dean's lips, as he remembered Castiel's hands intertwined with his, how their fingers had fitted together perfectly. He could still feel his thumb stroking over his gently; in his mind's eye he saw the smile Castiel had given him reaching his eyes, how the appearing crow's feet suited him. All at once, it couldn't be evening soon enough.

…

Dean had had a lie-down for a couple of hours, for one thing to kill some time, for another thing to improve his sour mood. He was still half-asleep and very drowsy when someone knocked against his opened door. Through tiny eyes he saw Castiel leaning against the doorframe, wearing jeans, a black shirt and a red, thick hoodie jacket. It was already dark outside, and the rich, orange light of the nightstand illuminated Dean's room. He saw the light fracture in Castiel's eyes; his skin seemed to glow softly, his sweet smile felt dreamlike to Dean. He returned it and yawned heartily, then he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up slowly. He froze a little bit as he pulled the warm blankets aside, his body was completely overheated. Dean guessed he must have looked as sleepy as he felt, because Castiel scoffed and chuckled quietly as he entered the room.

Their eyes met as Dean laced up his one boot, half bent over. He grinned sheepishly at Castiel, who stood in front of him, regarding his bed-hair with a brittle smile.

"I didn't know you could sleep all the time," Castiel teased, making Dean's grin wider. It had been a clever, tactical move of him to sleep his bad temper off. He was calm now, and damn, incredibly hungry. He let Castiel help him get up, and when he felt his firm, strong grip on his forearm, a hot shiver ran down his spine. For a second they stood in front of each other, face to face, their eyes scattering about the other man's face in awe. It soothed Dean to lose himself in Castiel's reflective, hauntingly beautiful eyes, and to see the littlest smile tug at his therapist's luscious mouth.

"Are you ready? My place is not that far away from here, but you should wear a jacket or something, it's a bit frosty outside..." Castiel said, eying Dean's stature from head to toe. He was wearing his well-worn jeans and a grey, close-fitting Henley shirt he had grown fond of. He liked how it emphasized the muscles of his upper arms and his pecs, and, by all appearances, Castiel's roaming, dilated eyes implied that Castiel liked his outfit too. Nevertheless, he donned a black, warm hoodie. He grabbed his crutches and together they left Dean's room.

"So, did you enjoy your free day?" Castiel asked while they walked outside, leaving the rehab-center behind. He tilted his head and met Dean's glare, giving him a toothy grin as he caught Dean's deathly, grim look.

"I don't live close by, Cas. What do you think? I don't have relatives or friends here, I don't know this town. I almost bored myself to death, I don't even know how to survive the upcoming weekends," he admitted with a growl. They strolled through the park, which was now plunged into the evening's darkness. At this hour, the park was abandoned and only tiny islands of white, electric light showed some scattered joggers and people walking their dogs. Though it was spring, Dean could see his and Castiel's breath appearing in front of them in the form of small clouds.

"Good thing I invited you over, then." Castiel concluded, lightening Dean's mood. He nudged his therapist's shoulder friendly and smiled at him.

"Hey, don't flatter yourself before the evening's over. Who knows, maybe you've cooked with arsenic?" he teased, loving the vivid, carefree atmosphere, which lingered between them. This way okay, Dean told himself. They were just chatting idly, nonchalantly, without commitments, promises or other complications.

"No, I don't have the intention to poison you. Who's gonna whine about my cruel workouts then?"

Castiel nudged Dean's shoulder in return, catching him off-guard, so that Dean actually swayed and lost his balance for a heart-stopping moment – but then, there was Castiel's hand holding his upper arm instantly, keeping him in a vertical position. They both laughed breathlessly, and Dean let his body weight rest on Castiel's grip for a second, half bent over to him. Their clouds of breaths intermingled, and as he looked up, he saw a joyous glint burning in Castiel's eyes in the bluesih twilight of the surrounding night. They shared a mellow look and innocent smiles, and it took all of Dean's composure not to grab Castiel's face and kiss him senseless right there and then. His proximity was addictive, it made Dean dizzy and filled his stomach with a thousand butterflies.

They continued walking and came to an apartment complex after a few minutes. Dean felt so alive, so insouciant in Castiel's company, it was overwhelming, heady, how quickly he could forget his gloomier thoughts and all the things which troubled him. Castiel retrieved his key ring and unlocked the front door; he held it open for Dean, a true gentleman, and Dean hobbled inside.

"That really wasn't far away," he laughed. Castiel passed him by and held his apartment door open for him – this was becoming ridiculous, Dean thought. He had never been wooed like that, especially not by a man, and Castiel was already so charming – Dean worried where this evening was heading to, he would probably die of his own embarrassment and Castiel's lovingness.

The smell of baked potatoes wafted through the air, as they entered Castiel's apartment, and Dean's tummy rebelled for food. When they were inside, he caught a brief insight of Castiel's dwelling. The place looked neat and not too fancy. There were laminate floors everywhere. From the corridor Dean could recognize there were three rooms – the kitchen, the bordering living room and at the end of the apartment there must have been Castiel's bedroom. Castiel pulled off his jacket and held out his hand, so that Dean could give him his hoodie. It was quite warm in the flat, so Dean quickly took off it off and gave it to Castiel. He couldn't help but notice how cosy and familiar it felt, to be in his apartment, about to have dinner with him. In another world, this might have been his alternative lifestyle, and he was definitely not averse to it. Coming home to Castiel sounded appealing...

He watched Castiel rummaging in the kitchen, his back turned to him, as he stood awkwardly in the doorframe of the room, not knowing what to do with himself. Castiel turned around to him and gave him a contagious smile.

"Why don't you nose around my place? I'm not really shy about my stuff, and I need solitude when I cook. Other people make me nervous and I'd let everything scorch," Castiel suggested. Dean's heart leapt into his throat as he heard those words, he gulped heavily. How could Castiel know he was practically _burning_ to do just that? Of course it was inappropriate to snoop around in other people's stuff, but Dean wanted to see and know everything about this man – and now he had his permission! His fingers were already itching with anticipation. He tried real hard to hide his excitement, as he nodded and as he said a casual, "yeah, okay." A grin, along with a terrible blush, spread over Dean's face the moment he turned around and began limping through Castiel's apartment with his crutches. He could walk quite decently with those damn crutches by now, but he still lacked the finesse, and he was a bit clumsy as he had a close look at Castiel's living room.

His eyes darted over considerable rows of DVDs, and he studied them attentively. There were some movies he loved, some he dreaded, and others he had never heard of before. In the nearby kitchen, he heard Castiel hum and something sizzled in a pan. It smelled awfully divine. Dean appreciated the sound of Castiel's dark voice humming nonsense, it felt so homely... On one of the side tables, he saw multiple photo frames, showing Castiel with other persons. He leaned down and examined them closely. He grinned broadly to himself as he detected younger versions of Castiel, probably in his teens and in his childhood. Some of those photographs showed him with a woman, and she appeared in various other frames as well. Dean assumed, she must have been a close relative – the way Castiel had put an arm around her, or how another photo showed them cheek to cheek, smiling happily...

Dean noted, in every frame, she was sitting in a wheelchair – and as Castiel had aged, so had she. The wheelchairs had changed during the years – in the photo, which Dean thought was the latest, he saw her laying in a flat wheelchair, one of those, in which one could actually lie, and Castiel's eyes seemed less lively, veiled with pain, as he stared into the camera with a forced smile. He held her crinkled, skinny hand in his. It made Dean feel uncomfortable, specifically when he compared the earlier images of Castiel with the newest ones. The change was obvious, tremendous. He was deeply lost in thought, absentmindedly he regarded the empty, numb look of those gorgeous blue eyes in the last photo. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he startled, ripped out of his own world of thought. Castiel handed him a glass of red wine, which Dean accepted with a quiet, "Thanks." He sipped the wine, turning to the photographs once more.

He felt Castiel's presence beside him, and as he moved his head, he could see him looking at the photo collections as well, a melancholic, brittle smile crawled to his sinful, plump lips. The expression of his eyes seemed glassy, far away, as if he was invaded with countless memories. He took a great gulp of his wine and sighed, then he tilted his head and smiled gently at Dean. Dean's knees turned into jelly, he felt a little bit muzzy, when he recognized the tenderness of Castiel's eyes, as he looked deeply into Dean's.

"That woman in the wheelchair, that's my mother. Told you, she died last year. Come, dinner's ready."

Castiel took Dean's glass of wine cautiously out of his hand and left; flabbergasted Dean followed him into the kitchen, the brief phantom touch of Castiel's fingers brushing against his still tingling on his skin. He felt like he had stepped into dangerous territory. For the first time in a long while, Dean hesitated – he wanted to ask Castiel personal questions, but he didn't know if he was allowed to, or if Castiel even wanted to talk with him. For a moment, this kind of contemplation vanished, when he saw two plates on a high table – two chairs, akin to bar stools according to their height, were placed around the table. There were two bottles of wine, innumerable candles were the only light source in the kitchen. Castiel already sat on one of the chairs and observed Dean with a gentle smile, an enchanting. calm glow in his eyes. Dean felt his jaw drop, his mouth was agape, as he took in the scenery. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for him or when someone had made such an effort for him. It touched him more than he wanted to admit. With wobbly steps he walked to the table and sat down opposite to Castiel, placing the crutches aside.

He admired the view on the plate – steaming, baked potatoes and perfectly roasted _steak_ and _bacon_ -wrapped string beans. Dean's mouth was immediately watering, he couldn't contain the wide grin splitting his face in two. Castiel held out his glass of wine and they chinked glasses, their eyes lingering on each other for a moment too long.

"Bon appétit, I hope I didn't screw it up," Castiel said with a casual smirk. Dean tasted everything and the appreciative moans which left him, made Castiel's cheeks turn deeply pink, and he laughed lightly to himself. Dean thought it was the best meal he had had in his whole life, and he took his time to relish it, chewing it all with pleasure and patience.

"God, you're heaven-sent, Cas. This is delicious!" he praised, loving how his words intensified Castiel's blush.

"So, what's with your mother? I mean, I couldn't help but notice she was dependent on a wheelchair. Did she have a sickness or something?" Dean asked, daring to voice the thoughts in his head. He hoped Castiel didn't take it amiss and understood it as mere curiosity, not careless rudeness. The pensive look in his eyes showed Dean he caught Dean's interest and how he had meant it. He smiled and refilled their glasses with more wine, making Dean wonder if Cas tried to get him drunk.

"She had multiple scleroris, it's a disease of the nervous system. It's incurable, and it leads to disabilities. In earlier years my mother was able to walk like everybody else, then came the walking stick, then the first wheelchair. In the end she could only move her head and her hands, the rest of her body was either paralysed or hurt her. We, uh... she and I, we trained together since I was a teenager, it helped to delay the signs of paralysis."

For a while Dean just stared at Castiel, incapable of continuing eating his dinner. He wasn't even aware his mouth stood slightly agape, and how his glance seemed to make Castiel somewhat uncomfortable. Only when Castiel averted his eyes and stared at the table, Dean realized how rudely he had behaved.

"I'm sorry, Cas. Wow, I... that must have been hard for you. I didn't mean to make you feel bad with questions," he clarified, and when Castiel uplifted his head, a fierce fire was burning in his deep, blue eyes, consuming every tender nuance lingering there. It had nothing to do with weakness or sadness, rather with passion and determination, and Dean admired him for this. He seemed less like a lost child, who had cared for his mother, he rather looked like a warrior, bitter and aged through his experiences.

"You don't, Dean. It's okay. I can manage to talk about it by now. Just the first weeks after her death were most difficult, but we knew it had to end someday. My father's death kind of prepared me for family members dying. It's not like it's not happening in other families too. I mean, look at you, your parents are dead as well, and we're both only in our twenties."

Dean didn't want to talk about himself or the tragedy that his family was – at least not when he was still sober. He knew it was quite selfish, but he wanted to get to know Castiel better, it seemed more appealing to him than to share sad stories about Mary or John or the ridiculousness that his life was. He nodded and devoured the last remnants of his steak, and as he couldn't restrain more moans, Castiel laughed again, and it made Dean happy and light-headed. He grinned and drank more wine, absorbing the bright gleam in Castiel's gorgeous pair of eyes on him.

"Do you live here all alone? Is there no fiancée or missus Novak?" Dean questioned daringly, leaning forwards – his breathing faltered and stopped, when he saw Castiel mirroring his position and leaning forward too, so that their faces were merely inches apart. Castiel grinned mischievously and narrowed his eyes apparently suspiciously.

"No, Dean, there isn't," he explained, then he chinked their glasses once more and winked at Dean. He watched Castiel drinking more wine, his eyes never leaving Dean's, and Dean understood. He recognized a hint easily when it was dropped. Heat churned inside his stomach, and his heart fluttered excitedly. He averted his eyes and chuckled shyly, rubbing his neck. Damn that man...

**TBC**

Hmmm what do you say? Please let me know, I cherish each review x)


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone who left a comment or kudos on this! Your interest makes me very happy ^___^ Please don't hesitate to leave a review, you'd absolutely make my day x3 A million thanks again to the gorgeous fvalconbridge aka superpotterlock, who beta-read this chapter and saved you from my horrible mistakes – kudos!

**Chapter 8**

They spent the evening chatting mindlessly, though their plates were long emptied. Dean didn't know how much wine both of them had drunk by now, but the first bottle was exhausted, and from the way he and Castiel often giggled and grinned, he assumed they were both more than just tipsy. When Castiel brought walnut pie as dessert, Dean groaned joyfully. He was about to sing Castiel's praise and told him so, but Castiel shushed him with a laugh and put his incredibly warm hand on Dean's mouth, telling him to shut up. Dean was dumbstruck as he felt his comfortably warm palm on his lips, as he drowned in the gleeful look with which Castiel regarded him. Soon Castiel sat down again and they enjoyed their pie. Dean had heard it was bad manners to mix different sorts of wine, but neither he nor Castiel complained when they opened the bottle of sweet white wine – it fit perfectly to the dessert.

Dean felt important due to the way Castiel looked at him, and how easily and animatedly they conversed. It reminded him of the feeling he had rarely had – to know he mattered to someone, to know he was loved. It excited him beyond imagination, all his insides buzzed, well-calibrated to Castiel's whole being. His words were a comfort for Dean's weary soul, and he was certain, he would never forget how lovely the other man looked in the candle light, how he grinned around his spoon whenever he ate his pie and watched Dean eating in his stead. The atmosphere was electrified, sparks were flying between them. Dean learned Castiel had slid into his job as a physiotherapist through the disease of his mother. Ever since his teenage years he had been interested in medicine and methods of treatment. It had been a great plus that he had been authorized to train with his mother, like this they had been able to save the money for a caregiver.

A terrible, throbbing ache constricted Dean's throat when he listened to Castiel's quiet voice, how he became gloomier and averted his gaze, once he spoke about his father. It pained him to hear the hurt within Castiel's narrations, as he told him his father had been depressed and that he had killed himself because he couldn't stand the progressive illness of his mother. He had been too weak to be strong for the both of them, so Castiel had to accept this role after his father had taken his life.

"I kind of hated him back then, you know? He left me and my mother all alone, he put all that weight on my shoulders, and I was only 16. My mother was getting really sick, and she was desperately unhappy, so I had to pull myself together, grow a pair and muddle through. I don't hate him anymore nowadays; I just wish he had been braver..." Castiel sighed. He took his and Dean's plates and put them in the sink. Dean smiled softly to himself when he saw how Castiel had difficulties walking straight and in a controlled manner. He heard Castiel letting water run into the sink, he watched how his shoulders slumped, and he sighed a gut-wrenching sigh, turning halfway to Dean. He smiled sadly at him, and Dean thought he saw tears welling in his fascinating, blue orbs.

"Sorry, I didn't want to burden you with this crap. It's just been a while since I could talk with someone so openly about it. With you, I feel like I have someone who really listens, you know?"

"Cas, no, don't be sorry, please, man. I do listen, and I do really care. I'm glad you share this with me. Feels kind of good to know you...," Dean admitted, wondering if it was the wine speaking out of him, enhancing what he was feeling inside. He was sure, he would have felt utterly embarrassed had he listened to himself sober. But the smile which came to Castiel's lips was worth a mint – it produced a steady heat in the depths of Dean's stomach, and it made him all flustered and edgy.

"You too," Castiel agreed with a choked voice, and Dean's heart skipped a beat. He harrumphed abashedly and got up clumsily. He approached Castiel and together they did the washing-up (Dean stood awkwardly on one leg) – Castiel washed the dishes, Dean dried them with a towel. Often their shoulders bumped into one another, and often they did it on purpose, sometimes with more, sometimes with less force, and they chuckled, though none of them commented on it. When Dean risked a brief side glance, he saw the satisfied smirk on Castiel's mouth, and he was glad he had brought it to his lips.

…

They ended up in Castiel's living room, with Castiel on the couch, and Dean on the fluffy carpet, his legs outstretched. Hours had passed; the time had elapsed really rapidly. Dean leaned back against the couch, and Castiel's legs were around his sides. They were killing the second bottle of wine, and the vibe between them was pretty innervated by now. Dean didn't refuse Castiel's offer to massage his shoulders, after Dean had complained how they ached through those stupid crutches. Now Dean sighed and moaned unrestrainedly, as Castiel's adept, strong fingers loosened his uptight shoulders with firm, circular movements. At a particular lewd moan, which escaped Dean uncontrolled, Castiel stopped briefly.

"Dean, the noises you make… what do you think will my neighbours think? The walls are a little thin," he scolded, but Dean could hear the grin in his voice and he laughed breathlessly.

"Don't tell me you're all goodie two shoes. You must have poached some people; I bet your neighbours heard worse things!" Dean taunted, and he laughed when Castiel smacked the back of his head lightly. Castiel continued to massage Dean, and he sighed wretchedly when Dean moaned and grunted again. He had to agree, it definitely sounded as if they were having sex.

"Well, I've had my share of one-night stands, can't lie. But those times are over, I sowed my wild oats."

Dean scoffed, not sure he could say the same thing about himself. There was just something about sharing the night with a stranger, trying to learn his or her body as fast as possible, to exchange caresses without further attachments. Though he had to admit, during the years it had felt less and less meaningful, and deep inside he knew he hungered for more – more than just a rough night, someone, who would actually stay until the next morning and many mornings thereafter.

"So, what, you're a saint now?" he bantered, but Castiel didn't seem impressed with his remark, he just proceeded massaging Dean's neck and shoulders skillfully, eliciting moan after moan from him. Those goddamn, strong hands knew exactly where to press, where to rub, how to touch him...

"No, I'm just saying, I've decided the next time I sleep with someone, I want it to matter. I want it to mean something. I'm tired of all the nullities. I mean, aren't you too? Or do you have someone you're with?" The question implied an unspoken yearning between him and Castiel, which Dean could feel seep swiftly into all of his pores. He had heard the soft undertone in Castiel's words, and it punched him right in the guts, made it hard to breathe. Did this mean Castiel wanted him? While those thoughts crossed Dean's mind, he also saw memories of himself leaving lover after lover behind, because they had to say goodbye to the town or another state, because another case was waiting for them, and John wanted to move on. Desperate hugs, empty promises to stay in touch, a thousand last kisses, hushed words and hidden tears at night. Heartbreak after heartbreak. Castiel couldn't know, but how could he cut right into Dean's heart with such a simple question? How could he make him remember all those persons he had to leave behind and ask him if there was room for another possible lover in his life at the same time?

"No, there isn't someone. To be honest, the kind of life I lead... I don't really have the luxury to care about a lot of people, and I travel back and forth through the whole country. How am I supposed to be with someone when I never stay in one place? It's my curse, you know? The good looks, my magnificent charm, I just attract people..." Dean said half-jokingly, feigned pretentiously, and he startled a little when he heard Castiel's hearty laughter behind him. Castiel's hands lay idly on Dean's shoulders, and Dean could feel his face hovering above his shoulder, approaching him from behind, they were almost cheek to cheek. Castiel's hot breath fanned into his ear, making Dean writhe a little on the floor. God, he was so close... How had he come so close? Heat arose in Dean's chest, he was overflowed with oversensitivity. Castiel's scent was enchanting, beguiling, and Dean's fingers twitched treacherously – he ached to turn around and bruise Castiel's cheeky mouth with passionate kisses, to nip at his plump bottom lip and to have his fill of him. He heard Castiel's low voice behind him, talking quietly.

"Though that's quite arrogant, I bet you do." Castiel purred and Dean stiffened in his motions, loving how dark and intimate Castiel's voice sounded. He absorbed the compliment greedily and relaxed again. The wine was making him drowsy, and Castiel's tender loving care had eased his uptight, cramped body. He felt insanely comfortable in Castiel's nearness, and so it merely surprised him, when he felt his head roll to the side, and as it came to rest on Castiel's upper thigh. He shut his lids; the world was spinning maddeningly, even with closed eyes. He was drunk, he was completely flustered through all the emotions Castiel had made him feel tonight – and he couldn't contain the gleeful, careful smile, which crawled to his lips as he realized one circumstance: He was _happy_. Possibly he had to thank the wine for a great portion of this happiness, but the other half was most definitely Castiel's fault.

All at once, there were slender fingers in his hair, stroking softly through the strands. They massaged his scalp gingerly, and it felt so good, Dean had to sigh softly. Underneath his cheek, he sensed Castiel's firm thigh – the muscles, the hot flesh, right through his jeans, and it was the most comfortable pillow Dean could think of. In the morning he would probably regret his careless behaviour, but right now, it felt like heaven on earth to be so close to Castiel, to feel his nimble fingers caressing him calmly. He didn't care about his dead father's or Sam's opinion in this precious moment, he didn't care about his masculinity or role models he was supposed to live up to – all that mattered was the undeniable affinity he felt he shared with Castiel. Whatever it was, which dwelled between them, it made Dean's heart thud slowly in his chest, it made time and reason irrelevant. It calmed and aroused him simultaneously. Castiel's fingers sifting through his hair endlessly was somehow much more important, more intense than most one-night stands he had had.

He didn't want to talk about it, and apparently, Castiel didn't want to either. The minutes passed, while Dean sat on the floor with closed lids, inebriated, smiling like an idiot, while Castiel kept fondling his head tentatively, with the lightest of touches. Dean's exhales became shallower, slower...

After a while, he perceived Castiel's hand shaking his shoulder a little, and Dean awoke with a start – he must have fallen asleep on his therapist's leg, leaned into him. He realized he was less intoxicated, and a blush crept on his cheeks and his neck, as he stretched with a groan and then turned around to Castiel, still sitting behind him on the couch. How long had he slept on him? What had Castiel done in the meantime? It should have bothered Dean, that he had lost his inhibitions around an almost stranger so quickly, that he had paid no heed to his presence. He already trusted him so profoundly, that he could sleep next to him. Castiel's smile swept all those worries easily away, and Dean was hypnotized by the mellow gleam of his infinite, blue eyes.

"I really don't want to chuck you out, but I think it will cause a stir if you're not back for breakfast. I made you miss dinner twice this week, makes no good impression." Castiel noted, amusement flickered in his glance. Dean nodded and yawned – he was too exhausted to feel regret or shame for the intimacy they had shared this evening (be it on a physical or emotional base), he even hungered for more.

Castiel struggled to his feet and held out his hand for Dean. With a swift movement he stood as well, so very close in front of Castiel – they were face to face, and it made Dean short of breath. It seemed like his exhales were tuned to Castiel's, that they were breathing in unison, and it made Dean lose his composure rapidly. His hot breath mingled with Castiel's, it blew against his mouth repeatedly, made his head swim. It was so very strenuous to withstand the temptation to uplift his hands and frame Castiel's fine face – not to morph their lips together in heady, vehement kisses, claiming those plump lips with his own. Castiel finally found the strength to turn away, and Dean took his crutches and followed him wordlessly to the apartment door.

As they stood there in the greyish twilight - Dean's back facing the door and Castiel in front of him – it appeared to Dean that their breaths were terribly loud, uneven. He didn't exactly know where he and Castiel where standing in the moment, but the urge to be near him was unbearable. Especially when he drowned in the dark glint ignited in Castiel's wide, blue eyes. They were clinging to Dean's steady look, reading him like an open book. He was still worried how Castiel could do that, breaking seal after seal of his protective wall to gain access to his innermost thoughts, with just a quick glance.

Dean saw Castiel's lips were slightly parted, sensually even; his appearance wrecked Dean, he couldn't stand it. He was so irresistible, unreachable, and right there in front of him. Before he understood what was happening, he saw Castiel was approaching him, overcoming the last step separating their bodies. Then there were strong arms thrown around his sides, and Castiel pulled him gingerly into a hug. Their chests met, and Dean was overwhelmed with the sheer intensity of _feeling_ Castiel against him, around him. His ribcage felt hard and lean against his, for a heart-stopping moment, Dean could feel Castiel's chest breathe against his. He stood awkwardly in the hallway, with Castiel wrapped around him, while the crutches hindered him from replying to the embrace in an equal manner. Inside of him a terrible yearning thrived, he wanted to engulf Castiel too. He harrumphed, trying to get over his sudden timidity. With Castiel holding him it was difficult to concentrate.

"Uhm, Cas, I'd hug you back, but my arms are already occupied," he explained, his voice sounded suffocated. Within a second, Castiel withdrew slightly; His arms were still around Dean's back, and he looked up into Dean's face with a cheeky smile. Dean could see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes through the half-light, it made him speechless, as if he was struck by lightning. He let Castiel take the crutches cautiously out of his hands, and he watched how he leaned them against the wall. Dean shifted his body weight on his sane foot, and then Castiel was around him once more, holding him in a bone-crushing, tight embrace. It knocked the air out of Dean's lungs. The intensity of the embrace was overpowering him, he was so painfully aware of everything taking place: Castiel's hands were on his back, fisting his shirt desperately. Castiel's moist, hot breath against his bare neck, his forehead touching Dean's jaw, as he hid his face in the crook of Dean's neck.

Dean allowed himself to respond to Castiel's careful caress; he engulfed him in a hug too. He rested his chin on Castiel's boney, broad shoulder and inhaled the maddening, entrancing scent of his hair and body. Now that they could hug properly, Dean let one of his arms come around Castiel's slim waist, his other hand traveled into Castiel's dark strands as he cupped the back side of his scalp. Automatically his fingers were curling into the soft mop of hair; a high-pitched, satisfied sigh escaped Castiel when Dean's fingers stroked his scalp tenderly, when the fingernails of his other hand dug boldly into the flesh of his hip. As if they had an unspoken agreement, they both moved closer to each other, so that their bodies were conjoined from their hips to their shoulders. All at once, the air they breathed was thick with want, passion pumped through their veins – Dean felt his knees loosening, his mind was befogged. All that mattered was the sensation of holding Castiel like this, of feeling his slender fingers on his back, holding him rather desperately. He felt so firm and soft in his arms, it was addictive.

Deep down inside of him, Dean knew this simple embrace was unreasonable, especially because it was swiftly getting out of control. Though he was very unwilling to do so, he disengaged from Castiel slowly, releasing him from their embrace. Castiel's smile was all it took to make Dean flustered all over again. Everything within him screamed for more closeness to this man, the attraction between them almost ached Dean, the longer he remained idle, the longer his body wasn't glued to Castiel's. He noted their exhales sounded erratic, and he knew he had to get a hold of himself immediately; otherwise he would plainly lose it.

"Thanks for tonight, Cas. You really saved me from death by boredom," he said without breath, fueling Castiel's gorgeous smile. He nodded briefly, then he gathered Dean's crutches and handed them back to him.

"You're welcome, the pleasure is all mine. I see you on Monday, alright?"

It was Dean's turn to nod; he tried to burn Castiel's appearance into his mind before he would leave. He never wanted to forget how affectionate his words sounded, raspy and thick with emotions. How his eyes sparkled, bursting with life and an ineffable joy, which made Dean antsy and utterly cheerful.

"Will you be alright or should I walk you back? In case someone kidnaps you or something," Castiel grinned, and Dean simply had to reciprocate the cheeky smirk.

"Don't worry, even if, they'd bring me back in the morning," he joked, and Castiel laughed lightly. Castiel held the apartment door open for Dean and they said affectionate, quiet "Goodnights" to each other, when Dean walked passed him. Castiel waited, until Dean had left the house, only then did Dean hear the sound of his apartment door closing. Damn, he thought to himself - What a night it's been...

…

Dean sneaked back into the rehab-center, it was past eleven – thankfully no one noted him, he slipped into his room, unseen by anyone. He was comfortably sated and the remains of his alcohol stupor made him dog-tired. When he sat down on his bed, he picked up his neglected cell phone – there were three missed calls, and all of them were from Sam. Shit, he had totally forgotten about his brother and their rule to phone each day. Dean lay down with a groan and dialed Sam's number, about to apologise to him. He had been so intrigued with Castiel that he hadn't even thought about Sam, though he knew he should have. Sam answered the phone, he sounded upset and fidgety.

"Dean? Is that you?" Sam asked, Dean winced once he realised he had worried his younger brother unnecessarily.

"Yeah, it's me," he answered guiltily, receiving snarled questions in return.

"Where the fuck have you been? Are you too busy to answer your phone?" Sam complained. Dean scratched his head nervously; he could already imagine what Sam would think of his today's pastime.

"I was at Cas' place, sorry, I totally forgot about talking to you," he confessed, a little harassed.

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you, Dean! You said I should call every day, and when I do, you're not there. You could at least take your phone along and write me a text message that you're indisposed or something. _Moreover,_ what do you mean, you were at Cas' place? So now it's _Cas_? What happened to _Castiel_?" Sam argued. Dean felt a fierce blush coming to his cheeks, scorching heat soared in his stomach, constricted his throat. He understood Sam was somewhat angry with him, but it was none of his business where he spend an evening at, or more importantly, with _whom._

"Yeah, so what? We're getting on well. Should I apologise for that?" he countered, hearing Sam's scoff.

"Don't give me that kind of crap, Dean. I know you. Look, all I'm saying is don't become too attached to that guy. Whatever put a bee in your bonnet, get it out."

Dean gritted his teeth; with his other hand he clenched a fist. Had he been so obvious? Maybe he shouldn't have talked with Sam about Castiel almost every day of this week, he might have revealed more than he had intended to. For a few moments tense silence lingered between them, and Dean felt his defensive walls crumble all too quickly. He had never been good with lying to Sam. He sighed agitatedly, it was like a wordless concession he made, and Sam recognized the given hint.

"Look, I mean no harm, and you know that. It's just... this make-believe world, it never lasts. I know what I'm talking about. I've tried it with Jess for an even longer period, and you know perfectly how that ended. All I'm saying is, you will leave this place in five weeks, so don't get used to his company. We're not meant for this, Dean."

"I know, Sammy... Yeah, you're right," Dean replied reluctantly. Deep down inside of him he knew Sam was only sensible, he reminded Dean of the wariness he had forgone all too easily in Castiel's company. His mind told him he was clinging to a fantasy, to daydreams of a future that could never be. His heart protested when reality set in and clutched him with its firm hands, as its claws cut right through him. He continued talking to Sam, and their topics quickly changed, the discussion about Castiel was put aside for now. When Dean hung up a good while later, he felt like he had been torn in two. Ambivalent feelings wrestled inside of him, he struggled for a solution, absolutely helpless. It was a hindrance that he remembered the feeling of holding Castiel in his arms vividly. He could still feel his soft, dark strands as he twisted them between his fingers. He could still hear his breathing stumble the moment he had seized his hip firmly. A painful riot rumbled in Dean's heart when the memories of Castiel mingled with Sam's admonishing words. When he fell asleep, he still didn't know what to do.

**TBC**

Sooo? Got anything to say? Next update will probably be on Friday!


	9. Chapter 9

Hello darlings…! Someone mentioned I make Sam unlikeable in this, and I just want to assure you: It's not my intention. I love Sam and though he might be a bit scolding in this I still want to portray him as Dean's cute, lovely little brother… So, no Sam-bashing! Uhmm… I have to warn you, this chapter is not beta-read but solely proofread by myself (Hey, I made an effort xP)… and I apologize for two politically incorrect (not racist, misogynic or whatever...) sentences in this chapter (that sounds horrible!) in advance. Poems recited in this chapter: "To his coy mistress" by Andrew Marvell and "How shall I woo thee?" by Paul Laurence Dunbar. Thanks again to the charming fvalconbridge for listening to my wails about this story so patiently hehehe x3 and to all those who reviewed and favoured the story so far!

**Chapter 9**

The second week of Dean's stay in the rehab-center had arrived. It was laughable, only a week had passed, and he was already deeply at odds with himself. He simply had too much time on his hands; he had never spent so many countless hours with brooding about his life, his desires, and his obligations. Though he had some difficulties accepting the moderated life in the rehab-center, he slowly started to embrace it. It turned out Ash and Garth had been right: the longer he was here, the more he got used to it. It actually felt good to re-read his favourite books before noon or after lunch, his head was filled with thousand thoughts and the welcoming silence of his room. Sometimes he even walked to the park again; the sunlight was gaining strength and warmth, and Dean enjoyed the rays of light caressing his skin.

Not only time passed differently here, the small things began to increase in importance. Sleep was all of a sudden cherished again, and Dean was grateful that the nightmares often made room for more pleasant dreams – and that he was still capable of dreaming beautiful, amazing things. It still felt weird to smile, but Dean caught his lips forming a smile more often these days – when he read, when he appreciated something he had taken for granted; hot, long showers, well-deserved muscle ache in his challenged body, a piece of pie as an exception on a Monday or reading another poem. Each day he chatted gaily with Ash and Garth – he lost an awful amount of game tokens during their poker sessions, and they decided Dean would have to make up for his losses with alcohol.

On Tuesday night they stole away. It was after ten in the evening, so they had to make sure no one noticed them. They were grinning and chuckling like excited children, feeling like some rebellious teens disobeying their parents as they limped through the quiet corridors. Just the thought of how they must have looked like made Dean laugh breathlessly, and they shushed each other stupidly. Once they had managed to escape they found a 24/7 kiosk and bought various bottles of alcohol – whiskey, Smirnoff and mixed wodka. This night they barricaded themselves in Ash's room. In order not to draw too much attention, they had lit some tealights, and while they were getting drunk together, they played cards and had whispered conversations. It was like a little, forbidden party in the rehab-center, it extinguished the monotony and the loneliness of each passing day.

Garth and Dean were laughing hysterically, holding their hands over their mouths to remain soundless – fits of laughter shook their bodies, while Ash told them about a one-night stand he had intended to have ages ago, that had gone wrong terribly.

"So, there I was, thought I had hit the jackpot. Tell you, that woman, wow, she was a bomb! I mean, her long, brunette hair, her full boobs – and apparently she wanted me too, you know what I mean?" Ash boasted with a grin. "So then we went to her place and we were making out, second base kind of stuff. And then she took my hand and placed it on her lap, and I felt something hard, and that was definitely not her cell phone or something. And then her, or should I say his? I dunno, then her boyfriend came in, and he was already bare ass naked and wiggling his eyebrows at me. I can't even begin to tell you how quickly I left that place. Though she was pretty indeed."

"I bet her cock was pretty as well", Garth teased with a toothy grin and they all snorted with laughter. Dean wiped a tear of laughter from his cheek and sighed. Garth took another sip from his whiskey and sighed as well.

"Damn, I miss my wife. I'm glad when I can see her again… two more weeks," Garth slurred pensively. Ash chinked his glass with Garth's and nodded compassionately.

"Yeah, I miss the ladies of my local bar too. Phew, there are some wild cats in there, rawr!" Ash agreed. Dean scoffed and shook his head, trying really hard not to think about Castiel in this moment. Garth caught his mellow look and observed him attentively.

"You have someone home too, Dean?" he asked kindly, and Dean downed his whiskey with one gulp. He shook his head in denial, letting his eyes wander between Ash's and Garth's thoughtful miens. He frowned at them, still struggling with images of Castiel seeping into his mind. His gorgeous smile, his lucid, blue eyes... The memory of holding him in his arms and to feel his respondent hands on his back in return... His throat convulsed with a dolorous ache he didn't understand, and he gulped heavily against the pain. This was ridiculous, he only knew him for not even two full weeks.

"No, man, I know that look. You're lying, there must be someone going round in your head," Ash persisted. Dean feigned a smile and poured himself another glass. He clicked his tongue and averted his eyes.

"Maybe so, but there's no reasonable chance for me. Let's better not talk about it," he concluded, receiving eager, sympathetic nods of the other two as a quid pro quo.

…

Apart from the time he spent alone or with Ash and Garth, Dean continued attending to the poetry course he had signed up for. It took place twice a week, and he grew quickly fond of the poems they had received this week. Then there were also the training sessions he had with Castiel twice a day. It was immensely tough to contain himself around Castiel, now that he knew him better. Sam's warning resounded in his head every day, screamed at him to see reason, but this voice became strangely silent when he was in Castiel's nearness. How could he take note of his brother's concern when Castiel smiled ever so fondly at him several times during their workout? When he hovered above him and stretched his injured leg with some force, their faces only a hair's breadth apart? It felt so natural to be physically close to Castiel; due to the therapy they were often forced to touch one another without hesitation. For example, Dean had to hold on to Castiel's shoulders when they both stood and when they tested the flexibility of his calf, Castiel in his stead had to seize Dean's hipbone and knee bend every time he curved his legs towards Dean's stomach when he lay on the ground.

It was unnerving how Castiel's prying eyes were always transfixing Dean's during the training sessions, watching him attentively. It corded up Dean's throat, produced a knot of affection and emotional turbulences in Dean's stomach. He found he didn't have the strength to mind Sam's premonitions, he often returned Castiel's glassy stare with a fond smile. His whole spine tingled when he saw Castiel giving him a tender smile then; it diminished the ghosts of worries haunting Dean all the time. Castiel's luminous eyes, the twirl of his rosy, full lips – those images were clearly etched into Dean's mind, and when he lay awake in bed at night, they came to him in the darkness. He was basking in the bright light Castiel somehow emanated, and though Dean knew of his painful past now, he thought he still saw the persistent beauty of him, shining wondrously behind his carnal shell, invincible. With each passing day it became more and more impossible to hold the affection for him back.

Dean almost dreaded each workout session, because he felt closer and closer to his therapist every time – quite naturally Castiel and he always got to talking, and he told him more about himself while they trained. Time and time again their fingers would brush over each other, and when there were a few minutes left before Castiel had to tend to his other patients, they would lie on the mats and hold hands properly. Castiel's thumb would stroke Dean's hand then, while he listened silently to Dean's narrations. Dean couldn't help but enjoy Castiel's presence, the carelessness and intimacy with which they conversed and behaved around each other. He found himself telling Castiel more of his countless road trips, and he loved the fair gleam in Castiel's eyes, as his mind wandered off to distant daydreams with relish while he listened to Dean's descriptions quietly.

Now it was Friday afternoon and they were through with their latest workout session; Dean was Castiel's last patient for today. Both of them lay flat on the mats in Castiel's office, side to side, huffing and puffing. Thin layers of sweat were sticking to their bodies, they were both somewhat exhausted. Once more they were holding hands. Outside the waning yellow sunlight shone, and as it fought through the windows, it came to rest on Castiel's black-brown hair, enlightened it brightly. Castiel had turned his head to Dean, and they shared a long, caring look. Castiel's blue irises cut right through Dean, made it difficult to breathe and to think clearly.

He had just told him about the time Sam had left for college, how it had drifted him, John and Sam gruesomely apart. Castiel squeezed Dean's hand sympathetically over and over again. It made Dean's head swim, and though it felt like someone had pressed a dowel into his heart, he felt bitter-sweetly happy. He even managed to smile tentatively when he lost himself in Castiel's soft countenance. With him, it was easy to speak about the things which bothered him – he didn't have to fear his rejection, his judgement or tactless words. Castiel understood, and Dean felt as if he was sharing his pain willingly, because it meant he got to know Dean better.

"It's a shame, we were just starting to be a family again, and even Sammy and dad were on good terms with each other. And then the, ugh, _accident_ happened and he was put to death," Dean mumbled thoughtfully. He gnawed at his bottom lip for a second, rage and restlessness increased within him.

"I need to find the son of a bitch who's to blame for this. I need to have my revenge," he growled then, feeling Castiel's hand flinch in his. When he met his eyes again, he saw the startled expression in them, how they were slightly widened. Castiel's mouth stood agape and he regarded Dean with a concerned demeanour. Only then did Dean realize what he had said, how it must have sounded like and he groaned frustrated. He had said too much.

"Honestly, Dean. By this time I'm not even sure what you're doing for a living. My first thought was you're a Mafiosi, then I thought you're a successful drug or arms dealer. Now I'm assuming you're either a serial killer or a bounty hunter. None of them sound too promising," Castiel joked dryly, a fragile smile painted to his gorgeous lips – but deadly coldness refracted in his light blue eyes, and it made Dean's flesh crawl in awe.

"No, Cas, I'm not like that. I can't really talk about it with anyone, but I hate lying to you. Let's just say I'm working in a secret association, but you've got to believe me – I'm one of the good guys. I've done things I'm not proud of, but at the end of the day, people call me and my brother when they're in trouble," Dean clarified breathlessly, and something softened in Castiel's eyes. His smile became broader, more honest, and he squeezed Dean's hand tightly. His reaction soothed Dean's nerves, warmth spread in his stomach. Affection burnt in his heart as he responded to Castiel's grip as their fingers intertwined even further.

"I believe you, Dean. It's not important, I feel like you're a good guy. I feel like I know you..." Castiel said quietly, his voice was barely a whisper. Dean's heart skipped a beat, his breathing stopped for a second. Suddenly, Castiel laughed lightly, and Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. He smiled, unable to withstand responding to Castiel's beautiful, laughing face. "What is it?" he asked and Castiel grinned and wagged his head dismissively.

"Nothing, all this talk about serial killers just reminded me of a silly poem my mother used to recite," Castiel replied. Dean grinned, glad the atmosphere changed its course into an animated conversation, which was less troubled and gloomy.

"Let's hear it," he demanded with a toothy grin. Castiel rolled over on his side and rested his head on his hand. His other grasped Dean's unhesitatingly and their fingers slid together, his eyes never leaving Dean's. Dean marvelled at the bright, vivid sparkle ignited in Castiel's eyes and how they smiled at each other lovingly.

"The grave's a fine and private place, but none, I think, do there embrace," Castiel recited with a grin, and Dean couldn't help but laugh. "It's actually a lecherous poem, you know? Written by a man to convince his mistress to seize the day and to get on with their relationship. I mean, come on, _Let us roll all our strength and all our sweetness up into one ball?_ " Castiel explained, they were both still smiling amusedly.

"Well, I guess it was their way of saying 'Can I buy you a drink?' or 'Your place or mine?'" Dean scoffed. He drank in the tender look Castiel gave him; he inhaled a shaky breath when Castiel squeezed his hand lightly.

"Have you heard any nice verses this week?" Castiel asked, his voice low and trembling as Dean pressed his hand firmly in return, as if to show him he wasn't going to let go. In his head a poem appeared, especially one line he thought he could identify with perfectly. His eyes remained on Castiel's all the while he spoke; he couldn't stop getting lost in the lavender-blue colour.

"I who was fearless so timid have grown, all that was eagle has turned into dove", he recited; all the while his heart roared loudly within him, he felt the strong rush of blood in his cheeks. Did Castiel know what he implied with these words? Did he understand? The sunlight refracted in Castiel's gorgeous eyes, and the affectionate smile crawling to his lips touched Dean severely. Here he was, reciting poetry and holding hands with his therapist – he didn't think of monsters, killings, weapons or what he owed to his family. All he could think of was the sensation of Castiel's warm palm pressed against his, how they regarded each other with fascination in their eyes, how time stood still for the two of them. He watched Castiel's chest move with every breath, he absorbed every millimetre of tanned, rosy, exposed skin of his body. Desire pumped within Dean's veins, and he was only seconds away from losing his inhibitions. The way Castiel bit his bottom lip thoughtfully caused a scorching hot, liquid fire washing through Dean's abdomen. What would he have given to kiss those lips in this moment? The alarm bells rang shrilly in his head, became a loud roar; the echo of Sam's words were omnipresent, weighed heavily on Dean's heart.

"I should really bring you one of those books of my mother's poem collection. I think you'll like it," Castiel stated all at once, forcing Dean back to reality, far away from his pleasant phantasms.

"Cas, that's very kind of you, but I can't accept the offer, it were your mother's books and-," he contradicted, but Castiel grinned widely and interrupted him.

"I won't take no as an answer. Come on, they're only gathering dust at my place. I bet my mother didn't want that, she would have been happy if someone read them." Dean contemplated Castiel's words for a moment, and then he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Cas. Oh, by the way, I'm getting the cast off tomorrow," he said, beaming with delight. The ward physician had informed him he would get a metallic support bandage instead, but it was a substantial progress for Dean's healing process. It meant he would soon learn to use his leg again; he would be able to put weight on it and be more flexible. Castiel sat up all at once, excitement appeared in his eyes.

"That's great! That means we can pretty soon start with the water gym," he rejoiced, smiling brightly. Dean sat up as well, a grim frown placed on his forehead.

"What do you mean with 'water gym'? Cas, I'm not doing aqua aerobics, I'm not an old, overweight lady! And how the hell am I supposed to _not drown_? I can't swim with one leg!" he argued, not too fond of the idea of doing weird motions in the water and making a fool out of himself. Castiel bent forward, a cheeky grin sticking to his lips, and Dean growled inwardly – how could he deny him anything when he looked so enchanting, so convincing?

"I tell you what: Tomorrow I'll come around and give you that book I talked about. And then we'll give the water gym a try, alright? We could go to the pool by late evening, it's always empty then. And, no worries, I'll make sure you won't drown. It's a little difficult to hide water corpses in here," Castiel said kindly, and Dean laughed a little. How the hell was he going to survive that? Seeing Castiel in the swimming pool, probably only in bathing trunks? His mouth watered at the mere idea, lust arose within him. He was almost sure he saw how dilated Castiel's eyes had become, maybe he was thinking the same, if the way he contemplated him with burning, blushed cheeks was any indication. Flustered Dean scratched his head and nodded, his head was overflowed with too many, confusing emotions.

"Yeah, alright. You better make sure I won't die, though," he joked. He recognized the cheerful expression in Castiel's light blue irises, and now he was certain his eyes were _very_ dilated. His gaze darted over Castiel's fine face, and Dean felt his fingers twitch restlessly, about to grab him and press their lips together. His imagination ran wild; he pictured the sensual plump bottom lip with water drops on it, glistening seductively. What would Castiel look like underneath those layers of clothes? Dean thought he could already envision his strong biceps, his slim sides, and his protruding hipbones. His lean muscular torso... It was a dangerous territory he was stepping into, but he couldn't help it – he was mesmerized by Castiel's being, he was so damn attractive, so bewitching... Dean knew he was lost, he was absolutely lost. What had he gotten himself into?

…

The next day Dean's plaster cast was sawed through, and Dean's long-missed calf appeared in his sight again. The limb looked pale and a little dented compared to the other one. He watched the doctor grasping his calf (he still couldn't move it on his own, just his upper thigh), it looked and felt a little dead. The doctor turned it in his hands to apply the metallic bandage; it had little screws to tighten or loosen it and Dean listened attentively when he was informed how to undo it in case of need. Since it was water-proof he doubted that would ever happen.

He was amazed at the huge stitches on the backside of his calf, a leftover of his operation. Two long, thin lines ran along his calf, deep red and purple, the flesh was still healing. When he was left alone again, he touched the maimed area cautiously, letting his fingertips glide over the protruding seams. It felt weird, and now that he saw the damage on his body, he understood Castiel's chiding words better – that it would take some time for his body to heal, that it was not an insignificant injury he had received.

Still, only four weeks of his stay here were left... when they released him, would he be able to walk on his own again as if nothing had happened? Could he drive his car again? Dean doubted it, he remembered what the doctor in the hospital had said: that it took up to four months until he could use his leg normally again. Extremely sad he leaned back in bed and tried to imagine the sound of the Impala – her roar, the constant noise of the street underneath the tires... He missed crossing the country; he missed the weight of the steering wheel in his hands, the control over the machine. He missed the freedom he had, to go where he wanted to – and to know Sam was safe because he was right there with him.

Worse than these thoughts were waking dreams about Castiel... Dean couldn't refrain from imagining a life with him, travelling with him and Sam through the states, from case to case. When he closed his eyes, he could see Castiel's beaming smile in the rear-view mirror or how he would sight the passing landscape with a melancholic expression in his eyes. Just the dream about this made Dean impossibly happy, though he knew it could never come to life. He couldn't stay here, and he couldn't take Castiel with him – both options were too risky, either for his own heart or Castiel's safety. He grimaced as he tried to distract himself from these heavy musings. Why was he punished with his longings throughout his whole life? Why did he have to yearn for Castiel, someone he couldn't have? It just wasn't fair...

**TBC**

Someone said "hunter vs. apple-pie life" and I think this sums this chapter up rather well… x3

Please let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweeties! Thank you all for your lovely reviews on the last chapter x3 I have this weird dogma, to have at least 6 chapters stashed in order to continue updating regularly... currently I'm at the end of chapter 17, but, oh well... the third update this week! I am so excited to read your thoughts on this... the rating... goes... up x3 Alas! This chapter is not beta-read as well, but I proofread it sternly!

**Chapter 10**

It was half past nine on this Saturday evening, and Dean thought he would have to die of boredom after all. He lay in bed and waited for Castiel's appearance; he tried to read a book but he couldn't exactly concentrate on the lengthy sentences in front of his eyes. Too often his eyes fled to the clock on the nightstand – he wondered if Castiel would show up at all. He had said he would come around in the evening, but they hadn't arranged a specific time. The whole day through Dean had felt fidgety, he couldn't stop thinking about Castiel only in bathing trunks. An impenetrable cloud of infatuation and anxiety dwelled in his stomach, as heavy as a rock. His heart hammered constantly in his chest, all excited and nervous at the same time. It reminded him of the feeling he had had when he was about to have his first time with a girl many, many years ago. The fear to mess it up, to be rejected, or to misinterpret the other's behaviour... It was simply unnerving. He _wanted_ Castiel to like him, he wanted him to hunger for him in the same frantic manner.

What was the point of all those tiny caresses, the way Castiel had ardently hugged him, how their fingers found together time and again? What was the point of all those intimate looks, those private conversations, reciting poetry and behaving absolutely sappy in his company? It had to mean they shared something precious, it had to lead to _something_ somehow. At least Dean hoped that, despite all doubts, despite every practical reason.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Castiel finally knocked on his opened door, a mellow smile gracing his rosy, plump lips. He was fully dressed, and the reddened cheeks and his ruffled hair showed Dean he had just returned to the rehab-center from a chilly spring night. Dean's bad mood instantly vanished and he returned the smile affectionately. Castiel walked inside and sat down beside Dean. He eyed the new, metallic bandage sceptically, his fingers traced the rods carefully. Dean observed his calm features, his heart thudded slowly now and his breathing had become erratic – Castiel's sudden nearness, his beguiling scent, the tiny smile lingering on his voluptuous mouth... It was all Dean had wished for within the last hours...

"Looks good. Better than the cast," Castiel said encouragingly, then he looked up and met Dean's eyes with a cheeky smirk. He took the book Dean had failed to read confidently out of Dean's hands, their fingers were lightly touching. Then he gave Dean another heavy book, one he had hidden in his jacket pocket. Fascinated Dean flipped through the pages, he estimated there were at least three hundred poems in that book, a little treasure.

"Th-thank you," he stuttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the pages. Castiel got up, the mattress rose up as his body weight left it. He took one of Dean's hand and held it loosely in his, looking down at him with a tender smile – Dean had no choice but to let his gaze roam over Castiel's beautiful, tranquil features. He looked ethereal, inhumanely handsome.

"Why don't you get changed and meet me in the basement? I'll be in the pool waiting for you," Castiel suggested quietly. His low voice caused goosebumps on Dean's skin, made him light-headed and entranced. He nodded, absolutely dumbstruck, and Castiel squeezed his hand, then he let go and was gone as quickly as he had come.

…

Dean felt like a sex offender when he made his way to the basement, only dressed in his swimming trunks and a bathrobe to veil his body. It was strenuous to walk with the crutches, and he was a little out of breath when he finally came to the indoor swimming bath. Castiel had been right: he had met no one on his way here, and the silence welcoming him made him understand he and Castiel would be alone. The dim, turquoise light quavered oddly against the tiled walls, the hall was spacious and filled with a huge, square pool. Dean saw Castiel swimming in the water, a lonesome figure in the surrounding, light blue. He must have noticed Dean standing awkwardly near the lowered entrance to the pool, a marbled staircase. Castiel waded through the water, a bright smile on his lips, and Dean simply lost it as Castiel emerged from the depths and came to him.

Thousand shiny beads trailed down his well-defined chest. Small rivulets were traveling down over Castiel's pecs, his slim torso, his flat, toned stomach. Every sensible thought left Dean, he was barely aware his jaw dropped. Castiel's sharp, bulging hipbones, his cute bellybutton, the small waist... a dark line of his happy trail disappeared where his wet, black bathing trunks begun. Dean didn't know where to look his fill, there were so many body parts he found admiring, arousing.

Absentmindedly he slowly doffed his bathrobe and placed it over the nearby metall pole, he let his crutches fall down to the ground with a little thud. He was painfully conscious of his own body, only dressed in his dark-blue bathing trunks as well, and though he had never been ashamed of his appearance, he couldn't help but feel a little floppy compared to his therapist's taut body. Castiel was standing in front of him now, the water was waist-high. He looked as gorgeous as Dean had imagined, good enough to eat. Dean felt wobbly, his knees suddenly failed to support his body weight. Carefully he stepped into the water, holding on to the banister rail – he felt Castiel's attentive eyes on him, watching his every tentative move. Those eyes were consuming him, their gaze left a raw fire burning fiercely on Dean's skin. When Dean was finally in the water, Castiel stood before him and they smiled hesitantly at each other.

"So, what now, oh great one? I'm in the water, but I can't swim, I can barely move forward," Dean sulked. Castiel rolled his eyes over-dramatically, then he approached Dean even further, there was barely a hand's breadth space between their bodies. With widened eyes Dean watched him, how close he was. Aghast he saw Castiel bent slightly, then there was an arm around Dean's ribs, the other was placed between the bend of his knees – in an instant Castiel had uplifted him with his strong arms, carrying Dean bridal style. Naturally Dean squirmed and writhed in Castiel's arms, he went as red as a beet, he could feel the heat in his cheeks. Castiel only laughed heartily and held Dean tighter, and eventually Dean laughed too, though he kept struggling for freedom.

"Cas, let me down, you son of a bitch! I'm not a girl!" he protested, though he still chuckled. He regarded Castiel's quirky grin, the amusement dancing in his blue irises, and suddenly, Dean was at ease, he even found it somewhat comfortable in Castiel's grip, and he stopped fighting. A huge lump corded up his throat; pleasure, close to pain, lingered inside of him, it was impossible to breathe consistently. Dean gulped heavily, trying to erase the pleasure-pain constricting his airways – yet he could not when he caught Castiel's eyes remaining on his steadily, seemingly unperturbed and ignorant to Dean's inner turmoil. Castiel was the source for that exploding frenzy and the excitement and agitation that came along with it.

"No, but you don't want to drown, and this is how we do it," Castiel insisted, then he waded through the water once more, with Dean in his arms. Their eyes were glued to one another, and Dean was overwhelmed with the stunning beauty of Castiel's eyes beholding him with affection. The shimmering lights, along with the restless movement in the water, underlined the unique colour of his irises, and they contained a tender, fond hunch as Castiel looked deeply into Dean's eyes. Dean felt as if in a dream, he could sense Castiel's naked, wet skin against his ribcage and hip. His strong, slender fingers digging into the flesh of his side and knee, as he held him pressed against him with gentle force. The fluency of the lukewarm water was all around them, Dean enjoyed the weightlessness, which was the usual side effect of being in a swimming pool. He was absolutely astonished with Castiel's self-assured demeanour, how he held him in his arms and walked with him through the shallower parts of the water, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dean knew they weren't exactly training, but he shut his mouth and just enjoyed to feel Castiel this intimately and to feel so blithe in the water's soothing embrace. It didn't take long, five minutes at the maximum, and Castiel was strolling to the edge of the pool, with Dean in his arms. Dizziness took possession of Dean, when Castiel maneuvered him, so that he found himself shoved against the tiled wall with his back – all at once, Castiel grabbed his upper thighs and Dean wrapped them around Castiel's hips in an unspoken understanding between them. So he hadn't been mistaken about the sexual tension lingering in the air, Dean thought flustered. His heart leapt into his throat when he lost himself in Castiel's eyes penetrating his – he looked astounding, fierce, demanding. By itself Dean's arms came around Castiel's boney shoulders and his bare neck and he pulled him closer, towards him. The littlest smile tugged at Castiel's lips, and Dean forgot to breathe, his heart stopped beating, as he watched Castiel's lids shut slowly. He drew him in and welcomed him as their lips met shyly, gingerly.

For a gut-wrenching moment they held still, their lips idly pressed together. Then they leapt at each other unrestrainedly and they kissed fervently, with endless devotion. Castiel's lips were softer than Dean would have thought, they fit perfectly to his. He loved how Castiel applied the right amount of pressure, how he kissed Dean breathless, it blew him right away. His whole body felt like jelly, a blazing fire was lit in his abdomen. He perceived Castiel's hips shifting, how he rutted his pelvis against Dean's. A whole body shudder overwhelmed Dean and he couldn't stop but tremble against Castiel's figure nervously, deeply aroused– Castiel was all wet and lithe and muscular, and oh so perfectly warm and inviting.

Their lips let go of one another, they panted swiftly against their mouths. Through half-closed eyes Dean watched Castiel observing him, his eyes were dark and hooded with lust. Again their mouths crushed together, Dean's fingers curled into the dark strands of Castiel's hair, he clutched his scalp forcefully and pressed their lips harder together. Castiel's hands framed Dean's face lovingly, he made Dean tilt his head to deepen their kisses. Dean complied to Castiel's lead and opened his mouth a little, welcoming Castiel's tongue. When it touched Dean's tongue, a hot flash rumbled through Dean, he became promptly rigid, an aroused moan left him. Castiel's French kisses were painfully skilled, it made Dean all tingly inside, and he responded with the same desperate desire, tugging at Castiel's hair.

It scared Dean, how easily he lost every sensible thought whenever he kissed Castiel's compliant, plump lips. What were they even doing? He knew he shouldn't kiss Castiel, he knew he shouldn't exchange these frantic fondlings with him – there were enough reasons for Dean to stay away from Castiel, as far as he possibly could. Dean knew all of that, and still he couldn't make himself care. It simply felt too good to be touched and possessed by the other man, to feel the same ecstatic lust boiling between them, mirrored in every movement.

Once the first initial shock had passed their mouths paused their kisses, and Dean let his hands wander to Castiel's jaw and cheek unabashedly. They both huffed and puffed, overwhelmed with the sudden outburst of their cravings; Dean kept his lips close to Castiel's as he opened his eyes and drowned in the dilated, wild eyes darting over his face in amazement. How could Castiel make him feel so important, so remarkable, due to an appreciative glance, his sweetest smile? Dean nipped at Castiel's bottom lip, his eyes resting on Castiel's boldly. He was overjoyed to hear a low moan from the other man, how Castiel's lids fluttered shut, he seemed overpowered with yearning.

Incredible heat streamed through Dean's lower stomach, he realized he was growing hard. He could already sense the thick, hard outline of Castiel's erection pressed against him. Dean couldn't control it as he groaned frantically and rotated his hips in small circles, sliding against Castiel's bulge seductively.

"Oh God, Cas," he whispered against the wet, luscious mouth and Castiel kissed him passionately, bruising Dean's lips with his own. Breathlessly they let go of one another, underneath the water Castiel's hand seized Dean's hip and he replied to Dean's movements and pushed his pelvis forward, meeting Dean's eager thrusts as he kept Dean in place, close to his overexcited crotch.

"I know," Cas sighed, leaving sublte, airy, open-mouthed kisses on Dean's jaw and neck, working his way down.

"I know, I want you too," he spoke under his breath, making Dean harden even more. He was lolling in Castiel's arms as he rode his eager thrusts, searching for more, wonderful friction. Their erect cocks touched through the thin texture of their bathing trunks, slid together, and a hot shiver ran down Dean's spine. He was twitching with oversensitivity when Castiel bit into the crook of his neck and grinded against his throbbing length; his blunt fingernails scraped over Castiel's broad shoulders, his muscular, firm back, trying to find some hold. The water sloshed out of the basin as they moved together, again and again their mouths were melting together in heady, exasperated kisses. Suddenly Castiel stopped, his hands had enclosed Dean's face. They were both breathless and painfully hard, Dean could feel himself squirm and pulsate against Castiel's erection. Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's and kissed his lips fleetingly, then he held still and Dean ceased stirring too. He was too entranced with the manner with which Castiel held his cheeks, how he pressed his forehead against Dean's desperately.

"Dean, don't make me come in here," Castiel moaned against Dean's mouth, he could feel the little wafts of air of every word touching his bottom lip; his abdomen convulsed, he was shaking from head to toe with arousal. What a silly request, how could they stop now? Now that their chests were hotly conjoined, now that they were both hard and filled with pent-up, sexual ecstasy? In the background of his awareness Dean remembered the confession Castiel had made a week ago – that he wanted his next intercourse with someone to matter; and who was Dean to bereave him of that? He nodded wordlessly and wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck again. He tried to come down from this mind-blowing exhilaration when Castiel engulfed him in a hug too – his thighs still enveloped Castiel's waist, but neither of them seemed to mind. They held on to each other tightly; Dean could feel Castiel's wet, moist breath bedewing the skin of his neck and he snuggled into him and kissed his shoulder coyly. This felt good, regardless every reason, Dean thought. This felt homely, thrilling, intimate, just _right._

Despite all the care taken they couldn't withstand touching the other man; Dean's hands groped Castiel's shoulders, back and firm, round butt unabashedly, and Castiel's fingers stroked Dean's sides and hips slowly, torturously. They were as closely compressed as physically possible, and their restrained caresses and touches weren't as chaste as needed. It took a while until they managed to get rid of their erections; they kissed less but stroked each other instead – however, whenever their lips collided, the fire and passion were instantly rekindled. Dean couldn't remember having felt this way before, as he clung to Castiel's body and enjoyed his little, tender fondlings. It felt as if he was burning alive, like some beast tore his chest up – and yet it felt so good, so perfect... Usually it had never been complicated – when he wanted sex, he normally found a willing partner, they got on with it and then the whole show was over. With Castiel, things were different, absurdly different even. He was content do accept what Castiel was willing to give him and to return as much; for the first time ever Dean had found someone who didn't go to bed with him instantly, and he was ready to _wait_ , even if that meant he would never sleep with Castiel.

Minutes passed, it was hard to say how many – it seemed like eons and seconds simultaneously. They stood in the lukewarm water in a motionless embrace, as if time had come to a standstill. Dean had his cheek pillowed on Castiel's shoulder lazily, his arms and legs were around the therapist's body; around them, the water began to feel cold, only their conjoined chests and bellies provided much needed warmth. Dean felt Castiel's fingers sift through his hair endlessly, sometimes the other man left innocent kisses on his bare neck. All in all Dean felt calm, incredibly calm and safe in those arms; he never wanted to let go, he never wanted to miss this feeling or Castiel's nearness. After a while it became too uncomfortable though, their fingertips were crinkly and their body temperatures had dropped. So Castiel retreated a little from the pool's edge and wrapped his arms around Dean's waistline as well; he held him close and waded with him through the water, towards the marbled stairs. Dean lowered his sane leg as soon as they reached the stairway. He was adamant to climb the stairs on his own, and while he made his demanding journey to dry land, he felt Castiel's supporting palm on the small of his back.

When they emerged and the cooling draught hit their wet skin, Dean began to shiver, his teeth chattered unceremoniously. Castiel walked to a nearby wooden bench and grabbed a huge bathing towel. He winded it around Dean's shoulders with a tender smile, while Dean stood on one leg, quavering at the sudden coldness. The towel around him felt warm and nice, and Castiel started toweling his arms and torso agilely – all the while his eyes rested on Dean's, and Dean had to smile fondly as he detected the mirthful gleam in Castiel's irises. It was such a heart-wrenching, kind gesture of Castiel to dry him... Dean's body relaxed immensely when Castiel gave him his bathrobe and as he cloaked himself in it.

He couldn't avert his glance when Castiel started toweling himself too with experienced, quick motions. Dean saw endless expanses of tanned, however still rosy skin, as well as trim muscles, slim flesh and prominent bones on Castiel's hips, his shoulders... It was a fascinating sight; Dean felt his thunderous heartbeats gaining speed the longer he let his eyes roam over Castiel's intriguing body – he already missed to touch his body and to be touched by him in return. When Castiel was done and had donned a bathrobe too, he approached Dean with an unreadable smile on his lips; he leaned forward, his lids shut sensually slowly, then he kissed Dean's compliant mouth harshly, Dean responded to the kiss eagerly. He was about to let his fingers glide into Castiel's hair and to pull him closer, but in that moment, Castiel let go and breathed against Dean's kiss-wet lips hotly. A smashing intensity burnt in Castiel's blue globes as they beheld Dean, making Dean's mouth run dry, his insides all fickle and jumpy. Castiel intertwined his fingers gently with Dean's blindly, his eyes holding Dean's captive effortlessly.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your room," Castiel said softly, and Dean nodded, though he felt not too overly excited to be without Castiel's company so soon again.

…

When they reached Dean's room and when Castiel shut the door behind them silently, Dean was glad to understand Castiel wasn't leaving him straight away. Dean sat down on his bed with a groan and placed the crutches aside – he would have to get changed soon, unless he wanted to fall asleep in his wet bathing trunks; the bath robe was already dank, but at the moment, he couldn't care less about it. His limbs felt heavy, his body worn out, and he was glad he wasn't freezing anymore. The warm bedsheets seductively near at hand, Dean had half a mind to lie down properly. Only the bedside lamp brought some light into the surrounding darkness. Dean was hypnotized when he saw the light beams refract in Castiel's dilated eyes, as the dark-haired man walked up to him, looking enchantingly beautiful.

Dean took a sharp inhale of surprise when Castiel got down on his knees and knelt in front of him. He was looking up into Dean's eyes resolutely and placed two warm palms on Dean's half-dressed upper thighs nonchalantly. Dean felt their warmth sift through his flesh, the soft skin of Castiel's fingertips tingled lightly. Their mutual gazes continued for a few lengthy moments, until slowly a little smile crawled to Castiel's lips, making Dean smile as well. Castiel moved forward and uplifted his head, a pained sensuality veiled his features – it struck Dean hard to see the devotion besieging Castiel's astounding face and how he shut his lids and approached Dean's mouth determinately. Dean realised he was to blame for that notion of lust and yearning growing inside his therapist, and something akin to pride and compassion bloomed in Dean's chest. He couldn't stand seeing Castiel so obviously torn in two. Dean lost every sensible thought when he saw Castiel parted his lips slightly, in anticipation of Dean's answering mouth.

Possessiveness rattled through Dean and blurred everything else, he only had eyes for Castiel, on his knees, between Dean's legs – he tilted his head and closed the gruesome gap between them, placing his lips chastely on Castiel's. They were warm and dry and tasted sweet, as sweet as maple syrup and pancakes on a lazy sunny morning, and the soapy, clean smell of Castiel's body, combined with the waves of his body heat embracing Dean, made Dean's head swim vigorously. He kissed Castiel intensely, he already loved the sensation of his full, slightly chapped lips crushing against his with the right amount of pressure and a healthy amount of teasing cleverness. How Castiel sucked at his bottom lip for example, or how he traced his tongue torturously slowly over the seams of Dean's mouth, only to dive between Dean's lips and ravage his mouth with skilled French kisses...

Things evolved rapidly then – before Dean knew it, one of his hands had fisted the lapels of Castiel's gown and pulled him nearer, his other fingers dug vehemently into Castiel's clothed shoulder. Castiel's warm slender fingers went stray in Dean's slightly overgrown hair, tugging at it forcefully to slam their skulls together; their foreheads touched, and whenever they stopped kissing to regain some breath, they stayed in this position, keeping as much of the proximity as possible. They were making out, and it was wonderful – calming and exciting at the same time. It took Dean's mind off things, and he wished it could always be so easy to lose himself in another person. Dean felt giddy after a while, he was inebriated with Castiel's kisses, his sweet, benign caresses. He hungered for more, but yet, this was already enough. It was unbelievably satisfying to forget himself and his complicated life in Castiel's warmth, his onslaught on Dean's lips, the shaking exhales, which filled the room. Finally they let go and Castiel stood up with a coy grin. Dean recognized Castiel's lips were deep red and swollen, they looked fuller and even more tempting and he groaned quietly as he realized he was to blame for the state of those kissable, adorable lips. He missed them already, his own lips vibrated with the aftershocks of Castiel's wild kisses.

"Dean, I've got to go. It's close to ten and the night watch will be here soon", Castiel said breathlessly – his voice sounded hoarse and husky; it made Dean's flesh crawl, a hot shudder ran down his spine. He nodded stupidly, not trusting his voice to sound less croaky or high-pitched. Castiel came nearer once more, he stroked through Dean's hair cautiously, his eyes clinging to Dean's.

"When will I see you again?" Dean gasped out, all voiceless and quiet, it was barely a whisper. His heart dropped into his gut, a storm of various untaimed emotions swirled through his brain. God, had he really asked that? He sounded like a lovesick puppy, and he hated that – but he _needed_ to see Castiel again. He wanted this affinity, he couldn't help but feel close to Castiel at all manner of levels. The gleeful smile creeping on Castiel's mouth spoke volumes, and in the next second, Dean found himself embraced by Castiel, the therapist's arms around his shoulder, and Dean's forehead pressed cosily against Castiel's dressed torso. He sighed and enjoyed how Castiel's hands stroked along his back recurringly. It felt so intimate, as if they knew each other for years – in this peaceful moment, Dean had no doubts, no fears, he just merged in Castiel's caresses.

"You can come around tomorrow after lunch, if you like. You know now where I live..." Castiel suggested, and Dean could hear the smile within his words. He nodded wordlessly and allowed their bodies to morph into one for a second longer, enjoying the sensation of another body around his. When they let go at last, Castiel bent down and kissed Dean's lips sweetly, briefly. He could feel the smile on Castiel's lips as their lips moved together. There were some more last kisses, until Castiel finally pulled away and let his thumb brush over Dean's bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Goodnight," Castiel cooed. Dean gulped heavily, his throat still ached due to the painful and marvelous emotions coiling inside of him. He watched Castiel open the door and turning around once more to give him a gentle smile.

"Night, Cas," he said flabbergasted; then the dark-haired man was gone, and Dean was left with his confusing thoughts, amazed at himself and the events of this evening.

**TBC**

Ugh, so... what do you think? I'm a little in love with Castiel in this chapter... x3


	11. Chapter 11

Hello darlings! How is everyone? Unimportant thing about me – I went without sweets from Monday on and I'm a sugar-addict, so that was rather rough. Thank God I'm back to more sugar hehe...! Thanks again for your lovely feedback x) Extra thanks to fvalconbridge for all the lovely reviews she wrote me x3 thanks darling, I really appreciate your opinion! Again, this chapter is not beta-read (sorry!) but I proofread it en détail my darlings (if you find some mistakes just let me know and I'll fix them!)... I hope I can smooth-talk one of my not so official but several beta readers to look over the next chapters...! Uhm... yeah... so... back to our cutie-pies x3

**Chapter 11**

Dean had scarfed his food down in record time, eager to get over and done with lunch. He wanted to see Castiel as soon as possible again, the whole Sunday through his chest had felt uptight, his head heavy with thoughts. It felt confining to stay in the rehab-center – outside the spring sun was shining, donating rich, yellow light to the trees and blooming flowers, and Dean wished he could feel the mild wind on his skin. This place seemed like a morgue; he needed to get out and be with Cas again, he needed to live a little. Ash and Garth were making fun of him for his odd behaviour, but he just grinned cheekily at them, chewing his meal carelessly. He had told them he had a date, and for that he had received impressed whistling and thousand nosy questions, though he didn't answer them one of course. They were still joking about him when he got up and hobbled away with his crutches, grinning from ear to ear.

He limped through the crowded park. A dozen of families were enjoying the fine, warm weather and had picnics, multi-coloured blankets were spread out on the lush grass. The pleasant climate allowed Dean to wear only a black T-shirt and jeans. He loved to feel the sun's tingling rays blanketing the skin of his forearms. Above him Dean heard the canopies rustling in the wind, and he felt a strange lust for living rising within him. Everything around him grew and thrived, the world seemed whitewashed, newly born, as if everyone had been given a second chance to start again. He wondered where this change of mind had come from. Rarely he had felt that optimistic; in the light of his experiences, it wasn't surprising that Dean was mostly a frustrated, sorrowful young man, whose discontent manifested in sarcasm or anger. However, the past two weeks had shown him that sometimes good things did happen. He had met Castiel, and for that he was grateful; and though he missed Sam terribly, it felt slackening to let go of the hunter's life for a short period of time.

When Castiel opened his apartment door, Dean was completely taken aback – beads of sweat were on Castiel's forehead and temples, his dark hair was damp and he appearead a little out of breath. He wore black linen pants and a light blue tunic, the texture was soaked through with perspiration. Dean frowned and greeted Castiel with a baffled, breathless "Hi, Cas". Their eyes met and Castiel smiled gently at him and opened the door further to let Dean inside. Dean felt too uncertain about their relationship to lean forward and demand a kiss, but Castiel didn't seem to mind or notice.

"Hi, Dean. Sorry, I just finished my workout. I didn't know when you would drop in... if you don't mind, I shower quickly, alright?" Castiel explained and shut the door behind Dean. When Dean walked past him he could sense the heat waves of Castiel's igneous body; he inhaled his rich, soapy scent deeply, it was intermingling with a harsh, but not unpleasant smell of Castiel's sweat – Dean's mouth watered unknowingly, his heart began a turbulent race in his chest as he devoured Castiel's appearance from head to toe. He looked unbearably seductive when he was wet through, when his torso was heaving with erratic breaths... His cheeks were slightly reddened, and his ruffled hair gave Dean all kind of inappropriate thoughts about bedrooms and exchanges of bodily fluids.

"What kind of sport do you engage in that makes you wear this weird hippie outfit?" Dean joked with a sly grin; he followed Castiel into the kitchen, and Castiel looked back with a wide smile and a fair shimmer appearing in his blue eyes.

"Wing Chun, it's a Chinese martial art. I bet you've seen it on TV at some point... you know, the _very_ slow movements people do with their legs and arms, it's quite strenuous... Do you want some coffee?" Castiel chatted idly, already pottering around with his little coffee machine, his back turned towards Dean. Dean couldn't help but gape at Castiel's clothed back – he could see the fine outline of his spine and his slim sides, the sheer fabric of his tunic was a little bit transparent; it corded up Dean's throat to recognize the soft skin underneath. Liquid heat streamed through his lower body and he sat down awkwardly on a kitchen chair to control his abdomen's activities without prying eyes on him. The water rushed and cracked through the coffee brewer, the smell of strong coffee filled the room. It seemed domestic to Dean, to sit in Castiel's kitchen and to hear the sounds of normal lives.

"So that is what you're doing when you're not ensnaring patients?" Dean cheekily commented, finding his tongue again. Castiel turned around and leant back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He narrowed his eyes and if it hadn't been for the broad smile on his plump, rosy lips Dean would have thought Castiel wanted to upset him with an intimidating look.

"I don't ensnare anyone, they're willing and you know it," he retorted dryly, making Dean laugh briefly.

"Showoff," he teased and Castiel's grin widened. He busied himself with getting cups, milk and sugar, then he beheld Dean with an unreadable, tender smile for a moment.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, make yourself at home."

As his therapist walked to the kitchen door, Dean watched in silent terror how Castiel pulled his tunic over his head in a smooth, languid motion, revealing the backside of his taut upper body casually. He was being given a glorious moment to look his fill of those broad shoulders, his protruding shoulder blades, the little, hollow dip above his waist... how Castiel's muscles moved and flexed entrancingly, making Dean dumbstruck and overwhelmed with yearning. Daydreams came to his mind – how would it feel to let his tongue glide over those planes of flesh, to follow the trail of his spine? Would Castiel squirm and writhe underneath him? Would he sigh and moan and respond to Dean's bold tongue, would he lift his body to meet Dean's? Two blue gems suddenly crashed against his eyes, and hot flashes cut through his intestines when he saw a provoking, smug smile playing around Castiel's mouth. Castiel winked at him and left to shower and Dean felt as if someone had released him from a tight grip, he could breathe again. He sighed a wrecked sigh and buried his heated face in his hands. That son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing to him...

Dean heard the roaring of the shower down the hall and helped himself with coffee; Castiel really didn't need a lot of time to shower and change his clothes, not even five minutes had elapsed when he returned to the kitchen with moist hair, dressed in comfortable-looking black slacks and a grey, close-fitting T-shirt. He poured himself some coffee as well and sat down opposite to Dean. Dean grinned when he watched Castiel putting an unhealthy amount of sugar cubes into the steaming liquid, along with some milk. Castiel caught his sceptical stare and narrowed his eyes threateningly again, making Dean laugh.

"What? I can't help it. I can't stand coffee without assistive equipment," he defended himself. Dean tried to wipe the sardonic grin from his lips, but he could not, so he drank his coffee silently and admired the view in front of him, how the daylight refracted in Castiel's endless, lavender-blue eyes.

"So, how was your day till now?" Castiel asked kindly, leaning forward on the table so that their faces were closer to one another. Dean cherished Castiel's attempt to make small talk; he usually had no difficulties with breaking the ice, but around Castiel, it was impossible to think straight and to keep his composure – so he was glad Castiel was taking the lead.

"Yeah, what do you think? Boring as every other day... I mean, I read some of the poems you brought me, and that was nice, and I talked a little with Ash and Garth... But apart from that, I fear I'll be losing my mind soon...I don't know what to do with myself," he wailed a bit, feeling Castiel's attentive, museful glance resting on him. He didn't want to sound like a spoiled brat, but his life here was so different, it was weird to get used to having time for himself. Sometimes it felt good to do nothing and to lay idly in bed, some other times his fingers were itching for something to do, something to kill or hunt. It made him restless.

"Well, what do you normally do when you have some spare time?" Castiel questioned friendly, sympathy resonating in his dark voice. Dean looked down and rotated the half-empty cup in his hands thoughtfully, biting down at his bottom lip. Sometimes he thought he was a shell for nothing but voidness, a carnal wrapper that contained no life. Regarding such questions he often felt like a robot which had no soul, which was just programmed to function as desired. And he had functioned all his life... There really hadn't been a choice to act in another way.

"That's the thing... Normally I don't really have spare time. My job is very consumptive of time... And when I'm done with a case, I'm mostly too knackered to do anything. I'm just glad when everybody's alive or when I can watch some crappy TV and have a beer or two before I fall asleep, you know?"

Castiel's hand reached out and enveloped Dean's, he let him take his fingers and they interwove together intimately. Comforting warmth spread inside of Dean's stomach as Castiel's thumb brushed over the back of his hand. He raised his eyes to Castiel's; something was stirred inside of him, clutched heavily at his heart, when he lost himself in the empathetic kind eyes beholding him steadily.

"That sounds rather unpleasant. Come on, there must have been something in your life you were passionate about, right? Like, some kind of hobby?" Castiel pressed forward, and Dean tried to think of all the pastimes he had had during the years. He shrugged unenthused and placed his other hand above Castiel's, squeezing it lightly.

"Hm, when I was little, I liked to play baseball. And during high school I was interested in playing accoustic guitar, that was kind of _the_ chick magnet thing back then," he said with a grin and Castiel chuckled; his fingers began kneading Dean's lovingly, and it motivated Dean to keep talking. "There were some other hobbies I pursued, but there was never enough time to elaborate on them. All my life we moved a lot, and there were other, more pressing matters I had to take care of."

"What kind of pressing matters?" Castiel asked breathlessly, rather intrigued, and Dean felt a shudder running down his back. He smiled sadly as the memories penetrated his mind - they were all he had left of his dad.

"Well, ugh, circuit training for example; or how to orientate yourself by stellar constellations when you're in the middle of nowhere, and other crap like that. You could drop me off in the deepest forest and I would know where to walk, how to find water and so on... Then I also did a lot of combat-training, I had to practice dealing with various weapons... So, uhm, that kind of was my childhood and my teenage years. Those things were more important than some stupid baseball games..." he confessed, feeling a lump of pain narrowing his throat. He had always tried so hard to make John proud of him, he had fulfilled his duties at all times... However, it had never been enough. And now John was gone, and all Dean had were his trained skills and some ugly memories about conflicting priorities. The grip of Castiel's hand around his tightened and when he met his eyes again, he saw worry flicker in them. He tried to get a hold of himself and dismiss the subject as beside the point. He inhaled deeply and laughed a little embarrassed.

"Whatever. That was then, and this is now. Tell me, what do _you_ do in your spare time apart from that wing-chicken-thingy?" he asked, wanting to distract the two of them from Dean's rather gloomy thoughts. Castiel smiled and scoffed a brief laugh.

"It's called Wing Chun, Dean," he corrected Dean calmly, though a wide grin stuck to his mouth and amusement shone brightly in his gaze. "I don't know, well, there's work, and I try to train a few times a week. Believe it or not, housekeeping is also time-consuming... Sometimes I read a book or watch TV, nothing too unusual I think... I let you know a secret, though," Castiel ended quietly, leaning more over the table towards Dean, a conspirational expression on his face as he continued kneading Dean's fingers affectionately. Dean felt his breathing hitch and he nodded eagerly, absorbing the mirthful glimmer playing in Castiel's eyes.

"I have a praticed hand when it comes to knives and carving wood, and whenever the mood strikes I carve, I don't know, all kinds of things. Animals, faces, figures... It never fails to calm me down, takes my mind off things... if you want to, I could show you some of the stuff I made," Castiel suggested, his cheeks went as red as a beet. Dean found it endearing. He had to stifle a laugh, because it sounded so nerdy that Castiel wanted to show him his 'carving collection', but Dean thought it was rather a lovely, unique hobby Castiel had. He could hardly wait to see how detailed or peculiar his style was, and so he cooed "that would be awesome", making Castiel smile happily.

They got up and strolled down the corridor, towards Castiel's bedroom, Dean recognized, and it made him all flustered inside. He almost choked on his own breaths as Castiel vanished in his bedroom, an odd, constricting sensation dwelt in his chest at the thought of following Castiel to such an intimate place. Once he stepped into the room, he saw the walls were ornated with a grey-blue wallpaper, in the middle stood a spacious bed; the only furniture apart from the bed was a waist-high, dark wooden dresser and a nightstand. On the walls were a few racks, and on them countless carved figures stood. Dean let his eyes roam over them in awe: The attention to detail was magnificent, automatically he stepped closer to the racks, feeling Castiel's eyes observing him all the while. He saw birds in all possible variations: Owls with spread wings, doves, eagles... Next to them there were a few sculptures of humans, some of them engulfed in an embrace, some of them huddled in desperate, forlorn positions – but all of them had no faces. Dean was certain he would never tire of looking at those carvings, but then he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

He turned around to Castiel, who beheld him with a sudden passion glowing in his eyes, and Dean understood him without a word being said. Castiel slung his arms around Dean's hips and drew him in; they both tensed up a little, their breaths briefly faltered, then their heads approached one another as if they were magnets seeking their fitting pole; Dean felt utterly stupefied when he closed his lids and felt Castiel's warm lips pressing against his demandingly. He answered to the kiss with the same fervent manner, delirious with joy to receive Castiel's kisses again. His fingers twitched agitatedly, he wanted to reach out and touch the other man, but his crutches hindered him. He pulled back and observed Castiel's dilated eyes, and when a cheeky smile appeared on the other man's lips, realisation dawned on him.

"Son of a bitch, that was a pretence! You just wanted to bring me to your bedroom!" he exclaimed in surprise that he had been tricked, and he watched how Castiel laughed heartily, laughter lines around his eyes; he could't help but laugh too – that smart bastard! Castiel's hands wandered underneath the hem of Dean's T-shirt, he could feel the warm, nimble fingers stroking over his stomach hungrily, seeking contact. Castiel's eyes darkened with each passing second, he kissed Dean's lips briefly, then he grabbed Dean's pelvis forcefully and pressed him flush against his. Dean saw Castiel's cheeks were tinted into a deep red, he looked stunningly beautiful and sexy at the same time. He sensed the hot, shaky exhales fanning against his agape lips, his whole body reacted to Castiel intensely.

"Don't tell me it bothers you," Castiel rasped in a husky voice, making Dean's flesh crawl easily. He gulped heavily, hypnotized by the man in front of him, his hands roaming over his torso greedily. In an instant Dean let his crutches fall without hesitation, he shifted his body weight on his sane leg and allowed his hands to frame Castiel's heated face. Castiel's eyes became glassy, shuddering breaths came over his lips, and before Dean knew what was happening Castiel's fingernails dug into the flesh of his hips – he turned him around in his arms and they were falling on Castiel's bed clumsily. Dean felt the weight of Castiel's lithe body moving on him, how the other man shifted and wrapped his legs around his hips. Automatically Dean's hands framed the other's waist, slid underneath his shirt, his fingertips stroked over the protruding, sharp hipbones slowly. He looked up into Castiel's face hovering closely above his; it felt cathartic to drown in his eyes. And though Dean felt nervous and almost afraid, as befuddled as he hadn't felt in ages, he couldn't help but hunger for more, even if that meant it would wreck him.

His heart leapt into his throat, his whole body tingled, as Castiel bent down and kissed him feverishly, pressing his head into the yielding mattress. His hands clung to Castiel's shoulders, his head was spinning madly, his stomach turned over, as he responded to his kisses. Their sensitive lips brushed over one another, he could feel Castiel's trembling breaths on his cheeks. Before he knew it, Dean fisted his hair harshly and pulled him closer, and they got lost in devoted kisses, untamed wildness tugged at them as their tongues wrestled sensually slowly with each other. Their hands begun to roam all over their bodies, enjoying the sensation of flexing muscles and warm flesh. When they finally parted, Castiel sat up on Dean's lap. Dean saw his eyes were hooded with lust, containing a blazing wildfire of desire as they beheld Dean pensively. He panted swiftly, his chest was heaving; Dean had tousled his hair unknowingly, it made him think how fierce Castiel appeared, it suited him. Hot tidal waves of arousal splashed over Dean, every inch of his body burnt with a brutish force, commanding him to bruise those soft, plump lips further, to get more of this addictive man.

Castiel got rid of his grey T-shirt and threw it away, Dean let his eyes dart over the arousing sight blatantly. Castiel looked beautiful in the lush, golden sunlight filling the room; his skin was smooth and slightly tanned, his eyes were lucid and inhumanly glowing, his dark hair framed his face perfectly. Dean barely had time to get used to the sight, as Castiel's fingers tugged at his shirt impatiently. He took the hint and sat up a little, Castiel still sitting in his lap, and removed his shirt as well. The atmosphere heated up when their bare torsos slid together, when naked skin on skin collided, causing sparks of electricity. Excitement pumped through Dean's veins, his whole body throbbed with pleasure as he kissed Castiel hungrily again, hearing his appreciative hum – it vibrated against his bottom lip. He moved closer. His hands traveled down Castiel's muscular back, down to his firm butt, and he groped the two globes greedily, his fingernails digging into the slacks' texture. At that, Castiel moaned loudly and moved his pelvis forward against Dean's; he stopped kissing him and let their foreheads fall together. Their eyes were glued to one another, there were ragged breaths against their kiss-wet mouths. Dean was quickly losing every sense of control the longer he stared up into those dilated, gorgeous eyes consuming him attentively. Then Castiel began rutting against his erect cock in a smooth, tentative motion, and Dean's lids fluttered shut, overwhelmed with nervousness and arousal. The friction was wonderful, it set Dean alight and made his cock harden tempestuously.

He was on the edge of insanity when Castiel's lips traveled over his exposed neck, there were teasing teeth biting into his skin seductively as Castiel moved against him repeatedly. At some point Castiel lowered himself and lay down beside Dean, and Dean turned around so that they were facing each other. Dean dared to let his right hand cup Castiel's cheek, his other traveled down the length of his side. He loved how Castiel beheld him through half-closed eyes, how he sucked in a shaky breath as Dean's fingertips glided over his hipbone gently, then down over his taut abdomen; he savoured the feeling of touching this tempting body. Gingerly he placed his warm palm on Castiel's bulging pants, he felt thick and hard beneath him. Instinctively Dean squeezed the other man's erection, enthralled he observed him biting down on his lower lip, his eyes closing; a groan escaped those plump, kiss-swollen lips, Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from him.

"Is this okay?" he asked breathlessly, remembering Castiel's wish for his next sexual intercourse to matter. Castiel kept his eyes shut, he licked his bottom lip nervously. Dean felt how he shifted his hips and came closer, so that Dean's hand was completely stuffed with Castiel's clothed erection. Unknowingly he pressed the hard outline and stroked the head with his thumb, watching how a whole body shudder overwhelmed Castiel.

"God, yes", Castiel gasped and writhed sensually against Dean's working hand, his mouth fell open in a silent scream, his full lips were trembling. Dean removed his hands from Castiel's body all of a sudden, and he smiled a little when Castiel opened his eyes, discontent plainly visible in his darkened eyes. He examined Castiel's reactions closely as his fingers fled to Castiel's waistband, undoing the fly deftly with rough movements. The other man gasped, his eyes fell slightly shut, as Dean shoved the disturbing fabric aside, he pulled his tight-fitting, black pants down hungrily. Castiel's eyes became hazy, unfocussed, the moment Dean dared to lay his hand on the fully erect, throbbing dick in front of him. He closed his palm around it, and squeezed the hard flesh in his fist, all the while observing Castiel. It was the hottest thing to hear him moan and to feel him twitch in his grip as their heavy-lidded eyes were fixed on each other – he could see the inflamed lust in those dark, blue orbs, it touched a sore sensitivity in Dean. He sensed his own cock was painfully hard, growing huge in his narrowing jeans, but, for the love of God, he couldn't stop attending to Castiel's need, forgoing his own release.

It was unspeakably satisfying to watch Castiel come undone, how his hips bucked frantically forward as Dean let his thumb brush over the wet drop of precome on the pink forehead slowly. The veil of sweet torture and overmastering pleasure was written all over Castiel's face – his brows were furrowed, beads of sweat were appearing on his forehead; his mouth stood slightly agape, it quavered sensually whenever Dean's wrist moved upwards on his dick in forceful, slow motions. Dean thought he could get off from Castiel's sight and response to his fondlings alone. He leaned forward and claimed his lips once more, with relish he realized how Castiel leaned into the kiss unrestrainedly, offering himself to Dean wholly. His hands touched Dean's bare chest, fingernails were digging into his pecs ferociously. While their tongues slid lewdly together, Dean felt Castiel's fingers were trembling against his torso, sliding restlessly back and forth. The man within his reach tensed up noticeably, Dean perceived the shudders taking over his body. The movements of his rotating hips became erratic, quicker – Dean let go of those kiss-swollen, plump, pliant lips to watch pleasure wash over Castiel.

Dean thought he would never forget the sight given: Castiel's cheeks were tinted in a rosy colour, his skin glowed with sweat. A wild notion flickered in his fully blown eyes, they beheld no focus. His breathing sounded high-pitched, shortened. Dean saw his upper arms and his pecs becoming strenously taut, the muscles protruded enticingly. Then, all at once, Castiel whimpered, completely carried away, and he burst out into his orgasm, compressing his eyes. Dean couldn't help but bite on his lower lip to dampen his throaty moans, as hot streams of Castiel's come spilled over his hand in spurts, as he stroked him through each tidal wave shaking his body mercilessly. In an unspoken, mutual understanding, their bodies came to a halt, Dean's hand still enveloped Castiel's slackening member. He smiled gently when Castiel's eyes penetrated his in awe, a blush crept upon his cheeks. He returned the smile shyly and Dean leant forward to kiss him slowly, lovingly. There were still little tremors within Castiel's exhales; before Dean could come to terms with what had happened between them, Castiel bit down on Dean's bottom lip teasingly. Their eyes opened, and he saw mischief, mingled with temptation, sparkling in those bright blue eyes. Castiel's teeth tugged at Dean's lip, forcing a groan out of Dean's mouth. An adept hand glided over his exposed waist, grabbed his hip demandingly and pulled Dean closer.

Castiel released his mouth and kissed it briefly. He licked his own lip, as if he was tasting their blended spit; Dean was entranced at seeing the pink tongue, it gave him all kinds of indecent thoughts.

"Let me return the favour," Castiel whispered, his hands traveling down to Dean's bulging fly tentatively. He seeked for approval in Dean's look, and Dean had difficulties finding his speech. So he nodded, too dumbstruck to utter a word.

**TBC**

Unf... so... eeeh...what do you think? x3


	12. Chapter 12

Hi everybody...! Sorry for the late update, I think I'll post two chapters next week to make up for it! Thanks a lot for your reviews / kudos / bookmarks so far! I was very happy about your interest heart heart heart 8D A huge thanks again to Angelphoenixwings14, who proofread this chapter with the utmost care – she is your saviour from the horrible mistakes I made (e.g. writing payed instead of paid, yeah I know) or awful lengthy sentences. Her Destiel AU Second chances is a thing you should absolutely read and admire x) Now, back to our lovebirds... Oh before I forget, I know canonically Dean and Sam got their anti possession tattoos around season 3, but I couldn't resist including it here...

**Chapter 12**

Once Castiel received Dean's consent, he didn't beat around the bush. He let himself fall from the bed, as flexible as a cat, down upon his knees, and seized Dean's legs carefully and gave them a tug. Dean's limbs fell over the edge of the bed, he propped himself up on his elbows to see what Castiel was doing. Swift fingers worked on his jeans, undoing them gently – Castiel uplifted his eyes and met Dean's, the littlest smile was playing around the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were still as red as a beet, his breaths shallow and uneven, and yet he thirsted to pleasure Dean. The older Winchester's head was empty, filled with nothing but cravings and the wish for relief. Castiel pulled down his jeans and boxer-shorts; Dean helped him and hoisted his ass briefly. His purple, thick, jerking erection was revealed, he saw Castiel regarding it somewhat mesmerized as it pressed upwards against Dean's abdomen; his exposure made Dean understand he was solely at Castiel's mercy, vulnerable and unvarnished presented. He twitched nervously when he felt slender fingers on both of his thighs, stroking along the inner sides towards his crotch. Simultaneously, a careful, warm mouth kissed the side of his length several times, nibbled at the heated flesh provokingly. God, it felt incredible...

Dean couldn't help but become completely rigid once Castiel's wicked mouth traveled to the head of his cock, leaving airy kisses there as well. Scorching heat coursed through Dean's body, he felt his cheeks blushing vehemently. A wayward hand of his moved to his sweaty forehead, pressed hard on feverish skin as he felt on the verge of losing control. The world was spinning to and fro; he felt his heart racing in his chest wildly. Hesitantly, Castiel began licking along his delicate foreskin – his pace was terribly slow, but he seemed to know what he was doing. He had Dean writhing in the sheets within seconds. The coldness of the drying saliva made him shudder; he was rewarded for his patience, as Castiel's fiery, narrow mouth closed in on him oh so carefully. As he glided smoothly inside this tunnel, he could sense Castiel's sensitive tongue on the underside of his erection, how his palate squeezed him maddeningly. Instinctively his hands reached out when the tip of his cock pressed against the back of Castiel's throat and as he felt him hum against his pulsating member. The vibrations drove him insane while he sunk his fingers into soft, moist strands of Castiel's hair. He couldn't help but tug at them gingerly; between his spread legs, Castiel's head started bobbing up and down in a wonderfully gruesome speed. His tongue licked along Dean's length and he deep-throated Dean often.

Dean was well experienced in recognizing the wholeheartedness of a blowjob. He had received some which left him confused and ashamed, as if he had forced himself on the other person, because obviously it wasn't their thing and they had decided to do him a favour nevertheless. Castiel, however, was quite another thing. He practically devoured Dean, the play of his tongue and lips was skilled and suffused with honest desire. Dean felt himself harden more and more in Castiel's mouth, the other's fingers crawled over his whole body blatantly, grabbed his torso's muscles, clung to his sides. Once Castiel let go of him, and when he looked up into Dean's face, a tender sentiment bloomed within Dean. Those glassy eyes, his swollen lips, how ragged his breaths were... He looked stunningly beautiful; it cut straight through Dean's heart. Unaware of his deeds, he let one of his hands cup Castiel's face and he smiled lovingly at him, his thumb brushed over the stubbly jaw gently. When Castiel continued blowing him without inhibition, Dean let his hand rest on Castiel's cheek; the fingers of his other hand twisted dark, midnight hair, his fingernails dug into Castiel's scalp as the other man found a sensitive spot on his length and sucked on it harshly.

Affection possessed Dean when Castiel placed one hand above Dean's framing his cheek. It was such a little gesture, but it held so much meaning... Their fingers intertwined, Dean's cock seemed to burst with gripping pleasure. Before he understood what was happening, he came hard into Castiel's mouth, his fingers squeezing Castiel's mercilessly. His body rocked back and forth as hot waves of lust washed through him. He felt absolutely lightheaded, throaty, lengthy moans escaping him. Castiel gulped his come down greedily as Dean couldn't help but loll on his bed. When the ecstasy left him very slowly, he realized he was panting hard. Castiel released him with a sly smirk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes meeting Dean's baffled stare.

He was too perplexed to say something, his lungs preoccupying him as they demanded air desperately. For a moment, Dean just lay there, trying to breathe; Castiel crawled on the bed again and lay down beside him. Absentmindedly Dean fixed his clothes and shifted so that he lay completely on the mattress again. He turned to his side and watched Castiel resting on his side too: his elbow was propped up, he pillowed his head in his hand and he smiled calmly at Dean, utterly spent and satisfied. His forefinger came down on Dean's naked torso, drawing insignificant, small patterns on Dean's skin. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from Castiel's, he was too fascinated with the other man to look away. Dean thought he appeared divine when he was sexually sated, his body emanated contentment and unbearable heat.

"Are you still complaining I abducted you to my bedroom?" Castiel asked quietly, an amused smile tearing at the corner of his mouth. Dean laughed in surprise at Castiel's cheekiness, with delight he saw Castiel was laughing heartily too. When they came down from their outburst, Castiel's fingers stroked over Dean's anti-possession tattoo hesitantly. He caught Dean staring at him and he blushed, as if he had overstepped a line. Dean took his hand in his and held it firmly, pressed against his chest.

"A strange tattoo you have there," Castiel mumbled, gazing briefly at Dean. "What is its meaning?"

At his words Dean was reminded he still wasn't allowed to share everything with Castiel. His head swam as he searched for a fitting explanation without giving himself away or making Castiel think he was nuts.

"It... protects me from evil spirits", he said pensively, loving to see Castiel smile a brittle, melancholic smile.

"You believe in evil spirits?"he asked, their eyes glued to one another. Dean nodded and squeezed Castiel's hand, held it close to his heart. Pain corded up his throat all of a sudden as memories of John's death came to his mind. How could he ignore that a demon had robbed him of his father, how could he not believe in evil? If only Castiel knew about the nasty things out there... He gulped heavily and averted his eyes.

"It's easier than believing in good things. Wickedness is everywhere..."

In an instant, Castiel moved closer and let his free hand sift through Dean's hair lovingly, looking firmly at him.

"But this, this is a good thing, right?" he whispered and kissed Dean sweetly, making Dean smile. He answered to the kiss and allowed Castiel to make him forget the heavy thoughts crossing his mind. Soon their kisses became heated and passionate, Dean couldn't get enough of them. For a while, they just lay in Castiel's bed and kissed and stroked one another tenderly, while the sun outside lost its strength and warmth. At long last, Dean found the willpower to let go of Castiel's addictive mouth. Their legs were entangled comfortably, Castiel made sure not to put weight on Dean's injured calf. It felt redeeming to finally share intimacies and to enjoy the other's company without restraints. The air was thick with attraction and an understanding that needed no words. Dean felt almost drowsy, and it wasn't the worst thing to inhale the soothing scent of Castiel, which stuck to the pillows and sheets as well, and to feel his fingers stroking him gently. At some point, they dozed off, their arms wrapped around the other's naked waist loosely.

…

They said goodbye to one another that Sunday with lengthy kisses and quiet parting words. Dean stood in the doorway, leaned towards Castiel to kiss him again and again, trying to memorize the sweet, clean taste of him. For the last time, Castiel's fingers stroked through Dean's hair lovingly, then over his cheek, and he pulled away gently, whispering a last "Goodnight". Dean smiled at him and turned around. He came back to the rehab-center just in time for dinner – luckily they had only slept for an hour or two, so he didn't draw further attention on himself due to having missed another meal. He must have emanated a satisfied vibe, because, as he sat down next to Ash and Garth, he could see their knowing glances and their broad smirks. Dean had no choice but to return their smiles shyly, he looked down and poked his food languidly. His mind and body couldn't let go of the remembrances of Castiel – his limbs still tingled with his kisses and caresses, he could still hear his voice, see the look of those lucid blue eyes. His lips were miraculously intoxicated with his kisses, they still felt somewhat numb...

…

Within the next days it became a welcomed habit that Castiel greeted Dean with breathtaking, passionate kisses in the morning, as if he had been starving for him the whole night through. He usually picked Dean up at his room after breakfast and each day his smile seemed to become softer, happier, broader. Dean's stomach did violent somersaults whenever Castiel appeared in his door, looking nothing short of absolutely marvelous.

In the mornings they trained in the swimming pool in the basement of the clinical center. At that time there were a dozen of other groups in the basin, working on their healing process and injured limbs as well. Castiel and Dean didn't even have to speak about it; they had a mutual agreement to not exchange caresses and kisses when other patients and nursing personnel were around. When Dean had to make his way along a route of bars in the water with extremely strenuous, slow steps though, he always felt Castiel's supporting hand on the bare small of his back. Also, his therapist's hand often grabbed his upper arm and dug into the firm flesh of his triceps, and though it must have looked like a simple gesture to others, Dean could feel the tremor within Castiel's restless fingers. And the encouraging look Castiel gave him,... to Dean it was plainly visible how many more emotions lingered in his soft glance when their eyes met. Though they didn't touch unnecessarily in the pool, Dean could always feel Castiel's hands rested too long on his body when they had to touch after all.

In the later afternoons, Dean found himself lying on a mat in Castiel's office, and then they were stretching and challenging his hurt calf as much as possible. Dean could feel the change after every workout, the life seemed to have returned to his leg, and if he strained himself, he could slightly bend it in different directions. Training with Castiel was rather difficult these days, his nearness was sometimes simply too tempting: When Castiel held Dean's upper thigh in a tight grip and bent over him to work on his leg, when his upper body hovered over Dean's – then he could see the spark of lust and yearning brightly lit in the dark blue orbs. His hot breath would fan over Dean's slightly parted lips, and temptation smote Dean mercilessly. Sometimes Castiel would allow him to kiss him in these moments, but it didn't take much – maybe Dean would fist his hair and pull him closer, or Castiel's tongue would slide heatedly together with his – and then they had to let go of each other, breathing heavily with kiss-wet lips. Impatient passion wanted to get the better of them and they had to stop touching the other man for a few minutes to contain themselves.

Dean didn't know what they were, despite the fact that they acted treacherously like infatuated lovers. He was glad neither he nor Castiel commented on it. It was already enough torture to deal with the thought of having to leave the other man in less than a month. The idea hovered above Dean's head constantly, like a dark, thick thundercloud, and his heart often raced in panic when his imagination ran free and he saw himself getting in the Impala and waving wordlessly goodbye to Castiel. He tried to shove those phantasms as far away from him as possible and to enjoy the given time here. Not even Sam made allusions regarding Castiel, and Dean wanted it to stay this way. It was easier to relax around Castiel when Sam's words of advice didn't ring in his head painfully loudly. Dean knew he was behaving unreasonably, but for once, just for once, he wanted to hold on to this chimera of having a life with the therapist.

They didn't see each other on Monday evening, because Castiel had all manner of things to do after work, and on Tuesday they couldn't meet because the clinic's staff held its weekly conference and Castiel had to attend to it. Now it was Wednesday, and Dean simply rejoiced at the given prospect to see Castiel again, in private for once. He bolted his dinner and made sure the present staff had seen his face, before he left the cafeteria and made his way through the park to Castiel's apartment. It was easier for him now to walk with his crutches, so he appeared on Castiel's doorstep within minutes. When the dark-haired man opened his door, Dean did his best to conceal his nervousness with the most charming smile his lips could form. Castiel responded with an equal one, he stepped forward and slung his arms around Dean's neck.

Dean's smile died on his lips when he could feel his lover so close again, as his body heat enveloped him. Castiel gazed into his eyes with a look of expectancy, and Dean's protective walls came tumbling down instantly. He tilted his head slowly, his eyes falling shut at the last moment, when he observed Castiel's lids closing slowly, pained sensuality written all over his face. Dean placed his lips upon Castiel's awaiting ones. Carefully he let them brush over the sinful, soft mouth presenting itself to him – then desire took over him and he kissed Castiel fiercely, opened his lips further when he let his tongue slip inside his hot, silky mouth.

Castiel's arms around his neck stiffened, his fingers got lost in Dean's short hair and he tugged lightly at the strands. Dean allowed him to tilt his head and their kisses deepened, became more frantic, heated. When they let go, Dean's head was swimming, his knees felt like jelly. Castiel's knowing look and his hesitant smile created a fond feeling in Dean's chest. He leaned in once more to claim those lips again, then they let go of one another and walked inside, closing the door behind them. Dean frowned at himself when the feeling of familiarity ran through his being like a soothing caress, as he followed Castiel into the kitchen. He had only been here twice, but it already felt homely to him. From the living room instrumental guitar music came, resounding within the whole flat, yet not in an annoying volume. It sounded Spanish or Mexican, Dean wasn't sure, though he thought it sounded rather bewitching and exotic. He couldn't stop looking at Castiel's occupied body when the man bent slightly down and got two bottles of beer out of the fridge, one of his feet tapping with the rhythm of the playing song. His therapist turned a little around to Dean and raised his brows, asking him "Do you want one?" and of course Dean nodded – beer had been his substitute for coffee, water and other soft drinks for quite some time now, though he could go without it if necessary. Castiel beamed at him and opened the bottles, a calm, however silently happy gleam within his eyes.

"Come on, let's go outside", he suggested and Dean trailed him thoughtlessly – only now he noticed there was a balcony bordering Castiel's kitchen; Castiel had already opened the glass door and stepped outside, but Dean couldn't see him any longer, which was simply weird. He couldn't have just vanished into thin air. With his crutches he hobbled to the balcony – he was met with the warm spring's air and the diminishing light of the nearing sundown. Crickets chirped nearby, the sound of squawking birds was in the air. Faintly, Dean could hear the murmur of the wind in the distance, stroking through the trees' new leaves. He let his eyes search for Castiel, and when he found him, his jaw dropped. He was lying on the wooden ground of the balcony, with legs crossed and his back leaning against a landscape of multi-coloured pillows. The whole floor was covered with blankets and pillows, it appeared like some cosy, comfortable hippie nest. Castiel took a sip from his beer, his eyes resting on Dean calmly, Dean could detect the hunch of amusement reverberate in those tempting blue gems.

"Do you want to come here or do you prefer to stand there just for decoration?", Castiel asked with a grin. Dean saw Castiel had the bottle of beer, which had been meant for him, placed next to him. The balcony wasn't that spacious to allow him gymnastic exercises and he didn't really know where to move his limbs to; he twisted his bottom lip between his teeth, worry lines came to his forehead instantly as he sought a place to lie down. Castiel spread his legs and tilted his head, the hand that wasn't holding his bottle patted his chest in a welcoming gesture, and then it dawned on Dean, as if he had fallen into ice-cold water. Oh...

"I won't bite, only if you want me to", Castiel said with a sly, little smirk, obviously aware of Dean's inner struggle. Dean tried desperately to repress the massive blush, which was forming on his cheeks at that moment. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Castiel's piercing look; it set something within him in motion. He couldn't remember giving his body his consent, but he lowered himself on the thick blankets and placed his crutches aside. To him it was a secret act of faith to turn his back to Castiel, he usually never did that around anyone. Then, he leaned oh so slowly back, his palms falling flat on Castiel's upper thighs nonchalantly. All at once, he felt the sturdy torso of the dark-haired man behind him, and he pressed his back against it fully, shifting his body weight on the smaller man carefully. Dean choked on his breath once he allowed his head to relax against Castiel's boney shoulder, his face turned towards the other's throat. He closed his lids for a while and savoured the sensation of the other man surrounding him: Dean could sense every trembling breath making Castiel's chest move against his back, how it stroked over his shoulder timidly. Castiel's legs framed Dean's, and he still didn't want to remove his hands from those muscular, firm upper thighs.

He began to let his fingers stroke the thighs through Castiel's jeans, peace of mind usurping him when he realized how easy it was to let himself go in Castiel's nearness. Sammy would have probably laughed at him for being such a cuddle bear, but this, this felt actually all kinds of nice. In a reassuring, startling and yet arousing way, all at once. The feeling was extended to completion when Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's waistline and pulled him firmer against him. Dean became rigid when he heard Castiel's sweet little sigh so very close to his ear, a warm, fuzzy ball of affection and inclination rumbled through his stomach. He felt light-headed, flabbergasted even. Had he ever let himself become so mellow around anyone? So heedless and careless? It didn't matter, he decided, when he perceived Castiel's deft fingertips sliding underneath the hem of his T-shirt. He shivered against the body behind him as he felt soft, innocent stroking fingers along his abs, which constricted with heated lust without his consent.

Once more, Dean felt terribly conscious of his body, and he didn't like it when someone touched him there, regardless of whether a man or a woman. He shooed Castiel's curious hands gently away and placed them on his hipbones instead, and there the fingers continued their little play of leaving senseless little drawings on Dean's skin. Dean grabbed his cool beer bottle and cradled it in his hands, smiling to himself a little when Castiel pressed a loveable kiss into his hair and breathed him in.

"Hands off my fat belly, I don't like that part of me," Dean grumbled a little, surprised at Castiel's chuckle.

"Are you nuts? What fat belly? Have you had a proper look at yourself?" Castiel retorted with a scoff. Dean could feel the slight movement in his body as the other drank from his beer too. Dean reconsidered his opinion about his looks as images of his naked body in the shower plunged into his mind. He took another swig from the bottle, then he sighed a contented sigh.

"Well, got to say... I noticed the change in my body within the last weeks. My legs are firmer, my arms feel broader. Not to mention the muscles in my back are stronger... And yeah, my belly might have improved, but it's nothing compared to your physique," he admitted in a pensive mutter. A blush crept upon his cheeks and he twisted his bottom lip between his teeth. It was a little awkward to talk about his body – he had never been worried about his looks, there had simply been too many people enjoying the given sight. But somehow his chest cramped with apprehension that he wasn't good enough for Castiel, that the other might not like what he had to offer. Suddenly, a delicate hand encompassed his; he watched how it took the bottle of beer away and placed it aside. He flinched with surprised pleasure when two hands glided underneath his shirt once more, groping his whole torso relentlessly. An aroused gasp came over his parted lips as Castiel rammed his teeth into Dean's neck wickedly. Fingernails scratched along his sides and made him stiffen rapidly. Dean listened to his own ragged breaths as Castiel sucked on his sensitive skin, about to leave a bloody hickey on the crook of his neck. Briefly, the sinful mouth left him. With half-closed eyes, he saw the hands wandering to his jeans, undoing the fly skillfully.

Hot breaths fanned into his ear, ghosted warmly over his hair - Dean felt absolutely petrified. An insolent hand snuck under his pants, and enclosed his growing hard-on gingerly. Castiel's teeth nibbled at Dean's earlobe and he couldn't help but arch his back and moan quietly, feeling utterly exposed to the other.

"To me, you're perfect, just the way you are," Castiel growled under his breath, increasing the blush on Dean's cheeks. God... when Castiel said such things it didn't sound as ridiculous as Dean would have usually thought. He wanted to believe him, wanted to take his compliments... Castiel's warm fingers formed a tight fist and he began to stroke Dean's hard length with adept movements, making Dean cringe and yelp with intense pleasure. Castiel's other hand caressed his torso reassuringly; the thumb that brushed over his erect nipple languidly, the fingers that dug into his hip roughly... Castiel changed the angle of his wrist and jerked Dean off faster, punching the air out of Dean's lungs in doing so. The friction was divine, his whole cock was bedaubed with his massive amount of slippery precome.

It was tiring to turn his head, but Dean wanted to see Castiel's face, he needed to read the honest affection written crystal clear in his admirable eyes. Once he tilted his head and met Castiel's eyes it hit him hard as he saw more than he could have possibly asked for. A gentle understanding for Dean's breakdown danced in those lovable blue eyes, while Castiel's hand kept working on Dean's downfall with sweet cruelty. For the love of God he couldn't avert his gaze from those dilated pupils, those agape plump, pink lips. Castiel seemed to cling to every of Dean's reactions, he seemed totally mesmerized with the way Dean's body heated up, how it began to tremble with each forceful stroke.

"You don't know what you're doing to me," Castiel whispered, a melancholic smile gracing his lips. Dean's heart hammered hysterically against his ribs at those words, tenderness for the other took a hold of him. He couldn't do anything to rescue himself, liquid, hot flames of his oncoming orgasm licked at the bottom of his spine as the minutes elapsed. He began to loll in Castiel's embrace, his body twitched uncontrollably – lewd moans and gasps resounded, and still, Dean couldn't stop drowning in Castiel's mellow, deep blue eyes.

"You're so damn attractive, Dean," Castiel rasped, making Dean blush harder. He felt as if in a haze, he felt so muzzy, flushed with heat and lust... His body was burning brightly, reacted easily to Castiel. Those soft lips moved and came to rest on his; Dean closed his lids and gave in to Castiel's adamant kisses. He was a boneless puddle of arousal, nothing but overwhelmed by Castiel's confident fondling. The other tasted of beer and warmth and home. Dean winced and heard his own high-pitched whimper as Castiel's tongue glided against his, as he ravaged his mouth passionately. His heartbeat became irregular, violent, and then, an alleviating maelstrom of delight streamed through Dean, sucked him in. He was tossing and turning in Castiel's lax embrace, his mouth still attached to Castiel's, as his orgasm washed over him. His come spilled over Castiel's slender fingers, dirtied them up, and damn, if that wasn't a kinky image...

Dean was floating on a cloud of dizziness and joy while his abs constricted again and again with each wave of his ongoing orgasm, he shook terribly against the other body. When he came around he realized he was kissing Castiel breathlessly, wetly, unrestrainedly. Appreciative hums vibrated against his sensitive mouth, tickled a little, and he pulled away, still huffing and puffing as if he had run a whole marathon. A shy smile came to Dean's mouth, for he was a little abashed to have come undone so thoughtlessly – but Castiel cupped his cheek gently and kissed him again, slowly and thoroughly, and when Dean melted against his moving mouth, he knew all was good, that he had done no wrong.

Castiel's fingers combed through Dean's hair fondly and their lips let go of one another. Dean couldn't help but smile when he saw Castiel was smiling too.

"I've missed this. I've missed seeing you like this," Castiel said quietly, placing a confused frown on his forehead. Castiel continued sifting a hand through his hair and it felt so enjoyable, Dean sighed, feeling damn snugly in Castiel's nearness.

"Satisfied... at ease," Castiel murmured, leaving airy kisses on Dean's forehead in between every word. His thoughtful words suffused Dean with happiness as he listened to the heavy, slow thuds of his heart. This felt all kinds of right, and when he relaxed against Castiel's body once more, he savoured the sensation as the other's arms came around him and held him tightly. With closed lids he paid attention to Castiel's deep, rhythmic breaths, nothing short of deeply contented.

**TBC**

Please let me know what you think x) Your opinion is always cherished! By the way, if you feel like eavesdropping on the progress I make for STRN, just go to my tumblr with the tag Soft Touch Raw Nerve x)


	13. Chapter 13

The poem recited in this is called "I know why the caged bird sings" by Maya Angelou. See below for notes.

**Chapter 13**

His pants were sticky and ruined with drying, cooling off come. Dean grimaced and shifted on the ground – as if by magic a paper towel appeared in his field of vision, and before he could grab it, Castiel moved it away. Awed he observed how one hand uplifted his pants, while the other cleaned the area of his naked skin like a duck took to water. Dean knew he should have been embarrassed or that he should have fought this, but it simply felt too well acquainted to let Castiel do this for him, so he didn't say a word. Castiel crumpled the used paper towel and threw it away. Dean corrected his lying position a little, then he held his breath when he felt the thick outline of Castiel's erection pressing against his backside. His mouth watered at the mere idea that Castiel had been aroused all this time.. He gulped heavily, a huge knot forming in his throat.

"Uhm, Cas... I guess that's not a flashlight in your jeans, right?" he joked breathlessly, still wrapped up in the dark-haired man's arms. His arms were resting on Dean's chest and waist in the most comfortable way, Dean enjoyed the little weight on his body. There was a light kiss pressed against his temple, he could actually sense the smile on Castiel's lips as they halted on his skin.

"Don't worry about it. For now I just want to hold you like this," his therapist sighed, causing Dean goosebumps. He nodded hesitantly, not sure if Castiel really meant it. It seemed a little unfair to Dean to come and not to take care of the other as well. He liked to be a taker, but he was also a giver, so he scrunched up his nose, incapable of letting bewilderment overpower him. Again, Castiel kissed his face, and the little kisses traveled down his cheek to his jaw. Instinctively Dean tilted his head to allow Castiel's smart mouth to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on the length of his throat. The dark hair tickled his face as Castiel sucked at the thin skin of his Adam's apple, forcing Dean to sigh and cringe due to his caresses.

He let one hand sift through the smooth hair, his fingers clenching and unclenching it absentmindedly. Again Castiel's fingertips stroked his abdomen tenderly, Dean couldn't help but disperse and let himself and all his worries go. Castiel's sweet sigh made Dean sigh too, and when the man uplifted his head, he smiled at Dean as if he had laid eyes upon the most valuable treasure he had ever seen. They shared a lengthy kiss, which contained more emotions than Dean wanted to admit. He wasn't allowed to feel this way...

He continued lying in Castiel's arms, rested against his torso, while the other kissed his hair from time to time, his fingers didn't stop giving small caresses. They both fell silent, yet the calm felt pleasant, intimate. They watched the game of the colors on the firmament, how they painted the sky crimson, orange and purple as the sun went down. The instrumental guitar music kept playing in the background, it filled Dean's mind with distant daydreams. At some point he placed his hand above Castiel's and watched how their fingers intertwined immediately. He let his thumb brush over the soft skin and smiled secretly to himself. How perfect their combined hands looked, as if they were meant to be, and yet they could never be one.

"What kind of music is that? It sounds like summer holiday music," Dean asked and heard Castiel chuckle.

"I bet you've heard of them before; the Gypsy Kings? They were quite popular in the nineties, I find them relaxing. To be honest, I listened to such songs quite a lot, they allowed me to fantasize about far away countries, places I wanted to see... You can almost imagine how the songs bring you to these landscapes you've never seen," Castiel confessed, his dark voice made Dean's skin crawl effortlessly. He squeezed the other hand with compassion. He could envision a younger version of Castiel perfectly. One that had been tied to the city and a sick mother, grieved with the loss of a father and husband and a lethal illness. A good-hearted young man, who gave up his dreams to assist his mother. The thought clouded Dean's heart and made him feel bad for the other. Surely, his own life hadn't been exactly peachy as well, but the normal lives often weren't that lovely either. He stroked Castiel's fingers with his gently, thinking about a poem he had read the other day, and it hit him hard when its meaning unfolded clearly before him.

"The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown, but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom," he recited, feeling Castiel stiffen behind him. Dean wondered if he had said something wrong, if he had gone too far.

"That was one of my mother's favourite poems. I think it remembered her of her disease, and that she was caged due to it," Castiel explained, and Dean felt all types of uncomfortable for bringing it up because it had reminded him of Castiel.

"Sorry, it just made me think of you, you know? How you want to escape this town and discover the world. I mean, it's not to late to live your dreams, right? There's no one left to hold you back, you have no more obligations... I feel like I kind of know where you're coming from. I also always had to consider what was best for my family, and my father made damn sure I knew where I belonged, what he expected from me. But he's gone now too, so... what I'm saying is, things can change, you know? For the better... You don't have to continue this life if you want to live another," Dean rambled mindlessly. It earned him another, lengthy kiss on his cheek and Castiel's arms holding him harder. Thereupon his heart raced rapidly in his chest, overjoyed to receive Castiel's endearment.

"I understand you, Dean. We can both start again, that's what you're saying. And I agree, but it takes courage to take the first step," Castiel whispered. He then hid his face in the crook of Dean's neck and for a while they stayed like this, tightly huddled up against each other. Castiel's moist breath fanned repeatedly against Dean's neck, heated and trembling. While the sky darkened more and more, he was certain, he heard Castiel sniffle at some point, and a treacherous wetness bedewed Dean's skin as Castiel continued to hide his face on Dean's neck. He brought one hand behind him to Castiel's hair and stroked through it sympathetically, making him understand wordlessly that he was there, that he shared his pain.

…

All the sadness seemed to have vanished into thin air the next day when they met again for another training session. Castiel blushed a lot and smiled even more. He praised Dean for his progress when they were in the swimming pool again. By now, Dean managed to wade through the water, and though it was still difficult, he gained faith in his leg. Underwater he could feel Castiel's fingers surrounding his and they held hands briefly, shielded from prying eyes. Dean had to smile regarding Castiel's sweetness and he marveled at the bright gleam he had brought to those lovely, blue eyes. It was almost unimaginable to Dean that someone like him could bring happiness to others.

On this Thursday they kissed a lot in the afternoon when he and Dean were in the familiar confines of Castiel's office. Castiel chided him for distracting them from their exercises, but he couldn't stop kissing Dean either, as well as Dean couldn't help pulling Castiel down on top of him over and over again. Despite all the easiness which lingered in the air, Dean didn't want to push Castiel and ask for more, so he kissed him thoroughly and affectionately when they said goodbye after their latest session. Maybe Castiel needed some time for himself and Dean was willing to give him the needed space.

When he lay in bed that night, he had difficulties though falling asleep. It was beyond ten, so darkness dwelt in his room, because the official night's rest had begun. Dean however was wide awake, occupied with thoughts about Castiel. Whenever he was alone he had plenty of time to rethink their relationship, his desires and his life. How in God's name were they supposed to remain together? How could this lead to something good and not end in tears? Phantom touches traveled all over his body, he could still feel the skilful kisses of Castiel on his mouth. How could one become so addicted to someone within weeks? How could he feel like he knew him so well, and that he was certain he didn't want to be without him again? A quiet knock at his door ended those thoughts and he sat up expectantly in bed. The door was quickly opened and Castiel sneaked inside, giving Dean a brief glimpse and a sly smile. He was soaked through from head to toe, his hair was drenched and darker than usual. In the darkness he approached him and knelt down next to him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean whispered, a broad grin spreading over his face. Castiel looked up from below, his face wet with rain. He seemed breathless, as if he had run here. Dean watched him producing a little Tupperware container from underneath his soggy trench coat. He held it out to Dean with a tender smile and Dean accepted it slightly confused. When he opened the box, his heart made a wild somersault and his heart constricted with love and amusement: A piece of apple pie, a fork and some cookies. Could he have asked for more? He gave a brief laugh and bit down on his bottom lip as he beheld Castiel pensively, happily surprised at his unexpected visit.

"I wanted to see you again. And I remembered your enthusiasm about pie. I mean, you've talked often enough about it, so I baked you one. But I couldn't bring the whole thing here, so that has to be enough for now," Castiel explained in a whisper while he doffed his coat. He leaned quickly forward and placed an innocent kiss on Dean's lips. Dean could taste the rain on the other man's mouth, he let a hand wander through the wet strands. His heart leapt into his throat at the mere thought that Castiel had bothered to bake a pie for him, it was one of the sweetest things someone had ever done for him.

"Thanks, Cas. You can stay but don't turn on the light, the night watch will be suspicious. And you have to be quiet," Dean whispered. He grinned when Castiel nodded, then he took a cookie and ate it with relish. God, how long hadn't he had so much sugar? It was delicious and he hummed appreciatively. He observed Castiel slide out of his shoes, then he pulled his shirt over his head in a smooth, fast movement. Dean's jaw fell slightly agape as he eyeballed the lithe, exposed muscular torso so close to him. When Castiel got rid of his jeans and stood before him only in his close-fitting, black pants, his mouth watered and he couldn't avert his eyes from the tempting view. He almost forgot to chew his cookie, completely dumbstruck.

Self-assured Castiel elevated the blanket covering Dean and the other made room on the mattress instinctively. In awe he regarded the perse night's twilight colouring Castiel's body, how it emphasized each curve of bone or muscle, endless plains of smooth skin. Castiel smiled gently at him as he slid underneath the blanket and tucked them both up nonchalantly. His damp fingers brushed over Dean's as he removed the plastic box, grabbed the fork and dug into the apple pie. Dean was absolutely speechless when he saw Castiel holding the fork out to him, a load of divine smelling pie in front of him. He opened his mouth hesitantly and laughed inwardly as he detected the cheerfulness bouncing in Castiel's deep blue eyes vividly when he fed him caringly. He scoffed a little when Castiel continued diminishing the pie in the box in that manner, all the while smiling happily at Dean as they lay side to side. It was wonderfully warm under the blanket, their legs were already closely entangled with each other. Dean could feel the little hair of Castiel's calf tickling him, his body heat was slowly starting to envelop Dean soothingly.

Despite all the coziness, the pins and needles taking a hold of Dean were of a quite different nature as the minutes went by. He felt it tugging in his stomach, in his lower abdomen and his legs, all the while his heart pounded harshly against his ribs, urging him to feel more of the other. Slowly he reached out a hand and placed it on Castiel's bare torso cautiously; he saw him pause within his motions, his lids falling shut and the fork filled with pie was slowly lowered towards the box as Dean allowed himself to stroke along his ribs, over his pecs and his stomach. It was a simple, careful movement, but it seemed to set Castiel on fire. With consideration Dean took the forgotten Tupperware container out of his therapist's hands, he put it on the nightstand behind his lover. Castiel still lay beside him with closed lids, parted lips and a strange sensuality beautifying his features.

An incredible yearning ate Dean up as he realized his desire was mirrored in the other man's face. He tilted his head and smothered the plump, slightly chapped mouth with airy, teasing, brief kisses. He could practically feel Castiel draw nearer whenever he pulled away, how a hot shiver made Castiel's body shake a little. Dean grabbed him by the hip and pressed their crotches firmly together, there was no holding back any longer. His mouth crushed together with Castiel's and they began kissing each other passionately. A frenzy assaulted them as their bodies touched from the waist down; Dean let his hand glide through Castiel's hair, over his cheek and his sensitive throat. He loved how the other tensed up whenever Dean found a weak spot, how he gasped high-pitched into his mouth. He felt so damn good against him, so warm and arousing...

Castiel felt like warm wax in his hands, utterly moldable; he leaned his head towards Dean's cupping hand as it framed his cheek, he gave in to the demanding kisses Dean gave him. He was altogether highly responsive to every of Dean's praising touches, his body was stiffening and writhing in pleasure next to him; their mouths let go, they shared a few excited mingled breaths, that dried the remnants of their kisses resting on their lips. Dean let his forehead fall against Castiel's as dizziness overpowered him, he opened his eyes and for a moment it seemed this was all that they could do – stare at each other longingly, unable to avert their gazes. Castiel didn't object when Dean's arms slung around his waist and turned him around, so that he lay with his back on the mattress, exposed to Dean who knelt between his spread legs. Lightheadedness twirled through Dean as he considered Castiel lying underneath him, so confiding and devoted and _ready_. His lean, muscular chest was rising with heavy breaths, his eyes seemed unfocussed. Dean could sense the scorching hot bulge pressing against his lap as he lowered himself to kiss Castiel messily, their tongues wrestled erratically with each other.

Before Dean knew what he was actually doing he started rutting against the thick outline of Castiel's erection, seeking for friction and relieving pressure – he heard him whimper in surprise, his exhales stopped for a second as their lips clung to one another wetly. Then he fisted Dean's hair mercilessly and pulled him down, his hips were answering to Dean's thrusts with small, wicked rotations that made Dean's heart miss a beat. He couldn't get enough of Castiel's reactions, in this moment nothing seemed to matter but the way he moaned throatily into Dean's mouth, how he met each of Dean's thrusts with one of his own. When Dean retreated for breath he realized Castiel was already far gone – he was panting, and even though it was dark, Dean could see the deep blush tinting his cheeks. His eyes were half-closed, unfocussed, clouded with lust and feverish passion.

Dean let his tongue dart out and he licked along the presented throat while his hands kept Castiel's pelvis in place. From there on it was easy to abandon himself to the vices his mind had planned all along. He nibbled at Castiel's protruding collarbone whereupon the dark-haired man sighed. His palms stroked the insides of Castiel's firm thighs, he felt him spasm and his hips buckle towards him while his mouth kept working on his chest simultaneously. It was stunningly satisfying to take his time to unravel the other man. Dean could taste the salt on his skin, intermingled with soap, sweat and a flavour that was solely Castiel.

Dean scattered kisses on his pectoral muscles, on the fine line in the middle of his torso, which parted his hinted abs to each side. He couldn't help but suck at his stomach and bite into the flesh there, Castiel's hands grabbed Dean's shoulders desperately and he was squirming restlessly as Dean's teeth scraped over his convulsing abdomen. He kissed the smooth skin right above the waistband of his pants, allaying his hunger as he could gnaw at both sharp hipbones thoroughly. Against his chest he could sense the huge, rock-hard erection of Castiel pulsating and pushing against him. With swift fingers he dared to draw the thin fabric down – all the while he looked up into Castiel's face, deeply moved when he saw the littlest smile playing around his mouth as he regarded Dean with a tender glance. Once more it felt like he was asking Castiel for his permission, and relief overflowed Dean the moment he saw Castiel nodded subtly.

Dean tilted his head and studied the fleshy, swollen cock before him – plenty of precome was coating the tender skin, dripped down from the leaking head. A sore urge seized Dean and he let his tongue lick over the delicate head gently, hearing a lewd moan for his bold attempt from above. He tasted Castiel and he couldn't deny he tasted extremely addictive – salty and bitter but also sweetish and clean. Dean opened his mouth and devoured the throbbing erection greedily, letting it fill his mouth until it bumped against his back of the throat. Castiel arched his back and fisted Dean's hair with both hands ruggedly; Dean would have smiled hadn't his mouth been so preoccupied.

He began to suck him of in a tentative pace, his tongue massaged the underside in unison to his up and down movements. His saliva was mingling with Castiel's precome and it eased the way for Dean's lips to slide effortlessly. Castiel was twirling Dean's short stands of hair between his fingers absentmindedly, he was alternating between lengthy sighs and tortured, trembling moans. In his head Dean tried to imagine how his face would look like while he blew him – would his brows be furrowed? His eyes screwed up? His head thrown back? He could picture it perfectly... Insatiable greed took possession of Dean when Castiel arched his back once more as he deep-throated him. His hands took advantage of the moment and glided underneath Castiel's bottom, he grasped both firm buttocks and kneaded them unabashedly.

A tremor ran through his therapist, he was fiercely twitching as Dean let his mouth wander up and down, making sure to tickle the slit of his head with the tip of his tongue and to nibble at the heated flesh. It seemed to undo Castiel further as Dean let his hands move towards the crack of his ass – forcefully he pulled him open and dared to let his fingers slip into the sweaty gap. By now Castiel was tossing and turning and to be touched at such an intimate place simply threw him over the cliff. Dean could feel him tense up and jerk violently. One hand held Dean's shoulder mercilessly, blunt fingernails delved into the skin. A whole body shudder carried Castiel away and he spilled his come into Dean's mouth as he came with a lengthy relieved moan. Dean gulped his come down when the squirts stopped. He cleaned the area with his tongue as if he was saying goodbye to Castiel's member in detail. When he was satisfied with his result, he let go of Castiel and kissed the flattening cock cheekily, a sly grin formed on his mouth as he met Castiel's eyes observing him in his actions.

He crawled to the headboard as best as he could with one useless leg and plopped down beside his lover. It went without saying that they turned to each other and cradled the other man in their arms within seconds. Dean engulfed Castiel in a bone-crushing hug, he could feel arms around his side and underneath the side he was lying on in return. There was a chin on his shoulder and wayward strands of hair tickling his cheek. It made him smile affectionately. He stroked Castiel's naked back reassuringly and felt him relax against him easily. One of Castiel's legs was draped around Dean's upper thigh and they moved closer, their bodies seemed inseparably compressed. Castiel covered Dean's shoulder, throat and jaw with thousand tiny kisses, they all appeared incredibly innocent and sweet – Dean couldn't stop smiling felicitously. If only he could always hold him like that, feel his heartbeat close to his... He was certain he could hear the rush of blood loud and omnipresent floating through their veins. He felt terribly close to Castiel, he never wanted to let go.

"Can you stay until I fall asleep?" he whispered into the silence, his voice sounded husky and choked. Castiel withdrew a little so that he could kiss Dean tempestuously, claiming his mouth savagely. Dean responded in the same feverish manner, though he felt sleep sneak up to him rapidly. As their kisses came to an end, they pillowed their heads on the large cushions, smiling gently at each other. Dean read endless tranquility in Castiel's eyes, the thought crossed his mind that he looked hauntingly beautiful when he was sexually sated.

"Of course. I'll stay till then," Castiel muttered under his breath, his forefinger stroked along Dean's forehead caringly. Contentment enveloped Dean and he closed his heavy lids. Castiel's ghostlike touches, his shallow breaths, his body warmth... they all accompanied Dean into his peaceful world of sleep, and when he lost his consciousness, he was downright at ease.

…

The fantasy of a sheltered life ended the next day – not even three weeks had passed and commotion returned to Dean like a boomerang. When he woke up this Friday morning he could see the pale blue sky outside his window. The fresh green of the arrived spring was lush, even from inside he could hear the loud chirping of the birds nearby. It seemed to become a promising day, the world looked still and halcyon. Castiel was gone as Dean had imagined – he hadn't even heard him leave once he had fallen asleep. He hobbled to the bathroom and showered languidly, allowing himself to reminisce about the last night they had spent together. He still couldn't wash away the touched smile when he had breakfast in the cafeteria. Ash and Garth commented he was unusually quiet this morning, but Dean simply had no words left to express his happiness. He was permeated with a vivid joy to the deepest core of his heart, words would have only cheapened his feelings.

That something was wrong dawned only slowly on him – after breakfast he waited in his room for Castiel to pick him up, but Castiel never came. Instead the dark-haired woman he had seen a good while ago appeared in his door, wearing a white uniform and a kind smile on her face. Dean frowned.

"Good morning, Dean. I'm Janet, the replacement for Castiel," she explained, confusing Dean. He sat up in bed, worry lines on his forehead. Replacement for Castiel? What did this mean? Had Castiel asked for the replacement? Didn't he want to get closer to Dean after all?

"Where is he? He seemed perfectly fine yesterday," he demanded to know, but Janet only shrugged indifferently.

"I don't know, he hasn't called in sick and we can't reach him. He isn't answering his phone."

Instantly Dean had a queasy feeling about this, a sense of foreboding defeated him. Fear clutched his heart, made it difficult to think clearly. Something was wrong.

**TBC**

Uh oh what's happening? x) Huh I remember one reader asking for Cas bringing Dean pie and the lovely Angelphoenixwings14 asked for a blowjob omg xD that is so funny, because, hun, here you have your BJ – I hope it was okay. Killed two birds with one stone, heh! Sorry readers, I think I promised you 2 chapters this week but my life is so busy these days, I simply had no time! I'll make it up to you somehow hehe... Thanks for your reviews and your kudos though! 

As always, please let me know what you think! Suggestions, thoughts, everything is much appreciated!


	14. Chapter 14

Hi darlings! x) sorry for the late update – I heard the week in the US was quite busy – Thanksgiving and Black Friday. Totally forgot about that,... so, thanks to Angelphoenixwings14 for proofreading this in despite of this stressful week! I hope you all survived marathons of food? BTW, I'm currently struggling with chapter 22, so there will be more updates for certain, I just have to deal with a few plot holes... So, if you have any suggestions or ideas / wishes, just let me know =)

**Chapter 14**

An endless churning pit remained in Dean's stomach throughout the whole forenoon, made him feel nauseous. He tried his best to postpone his little mental breakdown for when Janet was gone. They trained in Castiel's office, and it felt downright wrong to be in this room without the black-haired, charming man. His presence was sorely missed and Dean's heart did violent, aching jumps to remind him of his longing for the other man, intermingled with terrible anxiety. Janet was kind and she blathered a lot, but Dean could only feign smiles and nod as if he was listening while he followed her lead and mirrored her stretching movements, his every thought bent on Castiel's absence. The manicured hands on his leg were strange, had such a different weight and size compared to Castiel's that Dean couldn't help but feel slightly disgusted. Usually he would have thought Janet was an attractive young woman, and had he not met Castiel, he might have hit on her, but this...

Under the present circumstances Dean wanted nothing more than to see Castiel's lavender-blue, endlessly deep eyes again. He needed to behold the soft smile of his pink, plump lips as if his own life depended on it; he had to make sure the other wasn't hurt. Dean didn't even dare to assume he was lucky enough that Castiel was simply laid up in bed because of a mere common cold or stomach bug. No, Dean Winchester had never been the unmolested kind of guy who could reckon on everyday problems. It had to be ghosts, ghouls, witches or other nasty things that thwarted his plans.

Just a moment of carelessness and the world around him was descending into chaos. How stupid of him to think fate would be merciful with him, just this once. That it would make an exception for him and Castiel. The pit in his stomach felt like a colossus of heavy rocks, his nerves were pretty raw as time dragged on. The one hour of his workout with Janet was one of the longest he had ever experienced in his whole life. He was itching to get up and tell her to shove her exercises up her cute little ass so he could check on Castiel as quickly as possible – but somehow he managed to stay calm outwardly. If he was a little taciturn, Janet didn't seem to mind, for she rambled mindlessly on without paying proper attention to whether Dean listened at all. Dean bit down on his bottom lip in order not to scream at her that he had to ensure Castiel was okay right fucking now, because Dean was firmly convinced of the contrary. Again, it seemed like a miracle to him he was actually able to keep his mouth shut. Finally the hour had passed – Dean was wet through with a thin layer of perspiration, but he didn't waste more time to take a shower or to change his clothes. He and Janet made arrangements to meet at five again; Now Dean had plenty of hours ahead to search for Castiel.

Dean could feel the grim mien on his face as he clutched his crutches tightly and limped through the park towards Castiel's apartment. The weather was suspiciously warm and sweet; Dean didn't trust the bright rays of light, nor the soft breeze playing through the meadow and fully grown leaves of the surrounding trees. He reached Castiel's apartment complex in record time and stood awkwardly in front of his closed door for a second. He listened to his own erratic breaths, felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He held on to the crutches firmer, deeply lost in thought.

What if all of this was a figment of his imagination? Maybe Castiel was perfectly fine or really just a little ill due to a cold, and Dean stood here like a maniac, convinced something was wrong. Unnaturally wrong. How should he explain his weird behaviour to Castiel when he asked for heat drops, flickering lights or other suspicious things he might have seen? He would call him bananas and Dean couldn't blame him for acting like a sane person. Doubt gnawed on his brain, demanding to be heard. He inhaled deeply and knocked at Castiel's door a few times. Even if he made a fool out of himself, he had to make sure. He had to be certain Castiel was alright, no matter what.

The seconds elapsed torturously slow, so Dean heard his own savage heartbeats resounding in his ears. The blood seemed to have left his face, and he could feel his legs turn to jelly. Unhealthy heat boiled in his guts, a bitter taste lingered on his tongue. No one answered the door. He knocked at it again, louder this time and repeated the process of waiting. This had to be a nightmare, nothing else. Soon he would wake up and he would see Castiel smile again, he would regard the vividness in his tender glance and berate himself for ever worrying in the first place. When he was positive no one was going to open this cursed door he couldn't help but let his shoulders sag. Automatically his head hung down; a wave of desperation overflowed him, the first thrusts of panic hit him hard. Why the hell did Castiel not answer the door? What was restraining him?

Dean took a few deep breaths, refusing to let his apprehension get the better of him as he lingered in the hallway passively. If something had happened to Castiel... he might be in danger right now and in dire need of Dean's help. Surely, he was trained in Wing Chun, so he wasn't as defenseless as the average guy – but Dean doubted he could fight back when an unearthly creature attacked him. He eyed the door for a moment and passed the resolution he didn't want to break the door – it would arouse too much attention and Dean preferred to remain incognito.

He remembered the last Wednesday when he and Castiel had shared intimate hours of togetherness in the evening on Castiel's balcony, and the missing pieces of the jigsaw fell into place. The balcony! Thanks to the weeks of training Dean was in the best shape ever – his physical progress helped him a lot when he left the house and walked around the building, about to set his plan in motion. Castiel's balcony was at least two meters hovering above the ground and Dean had to stretch himself quite a few times until his hands could grasp the concrete frame. He looked over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was watching him, then he worked his way up to the top with stressed groans and grunts. He left the crutches on the ground, assuming they would only hinder him.

As he set foot on the wooden floor of the balcony the hunter instincts were back – sharp and sudden. Dean felt his whole back tense up, his hands formed fists, ready to throw punches if necessary. He wasn't the injured young man anymore. He was the killer, the attacker, game for anything. His heart leapt into his throat when he detected the balcony door was left ajar. He gasped for breath. The pillows on the ground were widely scattered, lay inconsiderately on the ground. Cautiously Dean stepped inside the quiet apartment, perking up his ears attentively. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, he tried to breathe as quietly as he could.

He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw a fine trace of yellow sulphur on the threshold between the kitchen and the balcony. He was on the verge of fainting, black despair overwhelming him. Demons. It had to be friggin' demons. An abrupt rage tugged at him and made him see red all of a sudden. He hobbled through the deserted apartment carelessly, not giving a damn if he was making a racket. The place seemed untouched despite the ajar balcony door and the remnant of sulphur. Dean raced through all rooms, seeking for hints. He was completely out of breath when he came to Castiel's bedroom at last.

The painful flare of the word 'Danger' kept appearing in front of Dean's eyes, flashing brightly within him like a warning sign. Dizziness possessed him as realisation clutched him unforgivingly. Castiel's bedroom was also devoid of humanity, no one was present. It was the last piece of evidence Dean had needed to be confirmed of his worst premonitions. The racks, on which the countless carvings had dwelt, were now emptied: All the figures lay messily on the floor as if there had been a fight, now scattered to the four winds. Slowly Dean approached the chaos and reached down as one richly detailed figure attracted his attention. It was a beautiful dove with widespread wings, which looked as if it was about to fly. It reminded him of Castiel and his wish to travel around the world, as homeless and as free as a bird. Bitterness and sadness embraced Dean with their cold hands and held him in a vice, made it hard to breathe. Poor, sweet Castiel... What had happened to him? Where had they taken him to?

…

Dean searched for Castiel throughout the whole day, forgoing lunch gladly. He ignored all passers-by with a fierce mien when they regarded him with worried looks; he ignored the fine weather and the overall cheerfulness of everyone outside because of the lovely spring's day. Though he didn't know this town he limped through the park and all other public places he could reach, frantically seeking for penetrating blue eyes and a dark mop of hair. Deep inside he assumed nothing would come of his extensive search – after all, he was just another insignificant human and if a demon had taken Castiel along, only God knew where to find him. Still, Dean persuaded himself if he just kept looking for a few minutes longer, he might be rewarded with the sight he missed so sorely.

He felt absolutely shattered and forlorn when he had to return to the rehab-center for his second workout session this day. It hindered him from continuing his search for Castiel, so he was altogether in a sour mood. Janet was more silent this late afternoon, she seemed tired and eager to start her weekend. It took all of Dean's patience to pull himself together and to bear the lengthy hour of muscle-building training. He gritted his teeth and tried to shush the screams of terror and fear ringing within his head as he mirrored Janet's smooth motions. No proper words could express the relief unfurling in his whole body when the workout was over and Janet wished him a good weekend.

He bit down on his bottom lip, uncertain how to proceed. Should he continue searching for his lover? Soon the sun would go down and the darkness would make it harder to find him... Also, if demons were around, he might put himself in danger as well. As selfish as that sounded, it would come to no good if both Castiel and he were hurt or trapped somewhere – who would come to their aid then? Surely Sammy might, but that might be too late as well... The rehab-center was the only safe place for him at the moment. Full of thoughts, he returned to his room, not knowing what to do.

He felt deeply torn in two as he grabbed his cell phone and called Sam's number. It was like admitting defeat - he was already prepared for Sam's scolding tirade, but he was his only solution right now. He gulped down his pride and waited for him to pick up the phone. His throat was already constricting with a pressing ache, tears of desperation were welling in his eyes. Nervousness possessed him as he stared outside, watching the colourful orange sunset on the horizon. He felt melancholic, his every pore aching for Castiel. He caught himself praying for him, that he was safe, that all of this was just a stupid misunderstanding.

"Hi Dean, what's up?" Sam picked up the phone and ripped him out of his gloomy thoughts.

"Sam, uh... I need your help. Or advice, whatever," he confessed, coming straight to the point. The tense silence lingering for a few seconds showed him Sam was all ears.

"Castiel is gone. He hasn't called in sick and he was perfectly fine yesterday, so I went to his flat to make sure he was alright. It was empty and I found traces of sulphur. I think a demon paid him a visit. I searched for him the whole day through but he has just vanished into thin air. I don't know what to do," he blathered mindlessly, becoming more and more flustered and anxious. The long, agonized sigh he received from Sam made him feel all kinds of guilty and worried, he couldn't stop the tears of powerlessness streaming down his cheeks. The situation was hopeless; there was no way he could save Castiel from whatever had happened to him.

"Dean... I don't want be the asshole here, but you know I told you to stay away from him, didn't I?"

Angrily Dean wiped a tear away with the back of his hands and sniffled. He nodded to himself, knowing he was to blame for this. He had placed Castiel in danger because he hadn't been able to leave him alone. Somehow the supernatural world must have gotten a hold of them, maybe they had eavesdropped on them and now they were all well aware of how close Dean and Castiel were.

"What do they want with him? I don't get it. Maybe they want to use him as leverage. Maybe they want you to stop interrogating demons. Have you captured some recently?" he pondered aloud, disregarding Sam's hurting words.

"There was a possessed girl a few days ago, but I couldn't winkle anything out of her at all. I might have been a little bit brutal, but hey, they're demons. They should be able to take a little knife-tickling, right?"

Dean mulled Sam's statement over in his head, trying to figure out if that was enough to make demons chase him and Castiel. Probably the existence of Dean Winchester was sufficient to attract demons after all, it was likely Sam's interviews had nothing to do with it. Sheer despair reached out for Dean when the fear gained the upper hand – what if he never saw Castiel again? What if he was in pain in this moment, hoping for some rescue? With a long sigh Dean massaged the bridge of his nose, letting the tears run free.

"What should I do, Sammy? I know you told me to back off, but the guy means a lot to me. I've got to find him."

Dean couldn't stand the weakness resounding in his voice, and felt deeply ashamed of himself. Furthermore, the hot tears staining his cheeks underlined his hopelessness, how painful the inflicted wound was. What would his father have said had he seen him like this? It was humiliating, and to be without a clever plan was devastating as well.

"I doubt there's a lot you can do. He could be anywhere. I suggest if the demon is after you, you better wait in the clinic. It will come to you in the end and then you will receive answers about Castiel's whereabouts. Until then, I think it's best if you stay put. It's the safest place for you now. What do you say? Should I turn around and support you? I mean, after all you're still impaired."

"I'm not a cripple, Sam. My leg has improved a lot. But thanks for the offer; it's much appreciated. It turns my stomach to give up so easily, though... What would you do if I went missing? Would you just sit still?" Dean objected, though he was grateful for Sam's kind words. They calmed him down a little, but pangs of guilt kept thudding within his heart.

"I would try to maintain a clear mind. It's the only thing you can do now – don't lose it, stay focused."

Dean nodded to himself, smiling sorrowfully when Sam used the words his father often had said to them. Stay focused. He wiped the drying tears away and thanked Sam for his assistance. He promised to call him and to keep him up to date. When he hung up, he was somehow more composed, though he still felt like crap. Only then he realized how tired he actually was. His fruitless running around in order to find Castiel had squeezed out the energy of his body – all his limbs were complaining, so he lay down in his bed to give the muscles and sinews a rest. Through half-closed eyes he observed the greyish twilight lingering in the room, how the night closed in on him. Worries seeped through his mind, enveloped his heart heavily. Daydreams of Castiel's sweet smile danced before his unfocussed eyes. There were grievous tears running down his cheeks again as he tried to remember Castiel's body weight in his arms, how his warmth had reassured Dean to the deepest foundations of his being. What would he give to hold him again? To kiss his plump, soft lips... To know he was safe...

When Dean fell gradually asleep he realized how worn out he felt, thoroughly permeated with yearning and the worst apprehensions.

…

In the middle of the night Dean awoke with a start. He sat up straight in bed immediately, his eyes trying to get used to the dimness all around. He was breathing hard, gasping for air. Only blurry images reappeared in his mind's eyes like white flashes, he must have been having one hell of a nightmare. However, Dean felt like something was calling out for him, a persistent voice that urged him to pay attention to it. It persuaded him to follow it and to seek the origin of that voice. Before Dean knew it he was struggling to his feet with a groan. By instinct he turned around and when he faced the window, the voice repeating his name in a ghostlike whisper ebbed away.

The given sight made his blood run cold, and was enough to make his toes curl. Outside, about twenty yards away he saw a lone figure standing perfectly still in the night's surrounding blackness. The physique was all he needed to see to be certain it was no one else but Castiel. But his eyes... oh, his eyes! These eyes were utterly black, showing the disgrace of the demon possessing him blatantly. They stared down at each other for a few lengthy moments; Dean tried to stay calm as he remembered he was safe within these walls, thanks to Sam's protection sigils. The wicked grin on those lips he had kissed was most bewildering to look at. He saw the demon thriving within Castiel violently. The creature stood still, only Castiel's fingers twitched from time to time as the deep black eyes rested on Dean predatorily. Dean's heart slammed quickly against his chest – what the hell was he supposed to do now? He felt a breath-taking urge to open the goddamn window and lunge for the awful thing, even if that meant he would risk his life.

Thoughtlessly he reached for his cell phone and called Sam, his eyes never leaving the monster a few feet away. Sam answered the phone, sounding drowsy, as if Dean had rudely awoken him. "Dean?" he asked confused, groaning sleepily. Dean clutched the phone tighter, gritting his teeth.

"He's possessed, Sam. That thing is standing in front of my window right fucking now. Any ideas?" he growled, disapproving his own cluelessness. Within seconds, Sam sounded wide-awake.

"Thank God! That's good! Remember the invisible colour I talked about the other day? I've been clever enough to paint a devil's trap in front of your window. You owe me a favour, big brother," Sam said cheerfully, and for the first time this day, Dean smiled honestly. Warmth bloomed within his heart at the given prospect for a solution.

"Damn right. Thanks, Sammy," he answered, never averting his gaze from the demonic beast outside. He hung up and placed the phone aside. With a sudden courage he opened the window broadly and leaned a little out of it, smiling patiently at the demon, whose grin simply didn't vanish.

"Hey, you black-eyed bitch! Why don't you come a little closer so that we can have a proper chat?"

The demon cracked his knuckles, then he formed fists and the inhuman smirk made shivers run down Dean's spine. The adrenaline within him pounded through his veins, he was electrified from head to toe. This better work.

"You bet, you son of a bitch! I would love to throttle that cheeky throat of yours!" the thing replied – it hurt Dean to hear it abuse Castiel's dark voice, it sounded horrible like that. Even darker and with a note of malice Castiel would have never been able to put into his words. The stupid thing approached him with slow steps, but Dean thought himself safe. He trusted Sam enough to not mess his work up. Finally the creature stopped in front of the window and Dean withdrew into the walls of his room – only one or two meters separated them as they regarded each other. All at once, the grin on Castiel's face faded, therefore Dean's appeared. The demon must have realized he was trapped.

"You're as dumb as I hoped you would be," Dean commented, laughing lightly when he heard the demon growl. He had nothing to be afraid of now; this was routine. He would save Castiel and get rid of that son of a gun – and even though he hated to prolong this for Castiel, he would ask the demon a couple of questions. He left the monster in front of his opened window, feeling the ugly black eyes resting on his every move – Dean reached for his duffel bag underneath his bed and produced all the things he deemed necessary: Holy water and the notebook with exorcisms he couldn't memorize. It was a little difficult to hobble back to the windowsill without his crutches, and he thought he caught the demon scoff at him. However, when Dean stopped in front of the window and untwisted the bottle of holy water, the demon's ugly smile faded entirely.

"You will answer me some questions before you let him go, capiche?" Dean growled, his eyes resting firmly on the diabolic creature in front of him, trying to look as intimidating as possible with a maimed leg. The demon smiled wickedly, it didn't suit Castiel's face at all. Dean felt nauseous.

"What makes you think I would do that, human?"

Full of spirit Dean splashed some holy water right into the monster's face – he received agonized cries, white smoke soared into the night's air with a sizzling noise. The demon grunted and shook terribly. When he calmed down, he gave Dean the evil eye and wiped over Castiel's wet face, the smugness was erased out of the features he currently abused.

"Now, if you don't want to drink the whole content of this bottle, I suggest you talk. Why are you here? Why are you possessing this man?" Dean snarled, giving the thing a scrutinizing look. He assumed this one was the weakest link of the chain of demons he had met in his life. He could already decipher the first signs of an opinion's shift in the nervously darting black eyes. The demon furrowed his brows as if he was in pain, then he averted his gaze.

"The hunt for you has begun, boy. I'm here for you. You're standing in Azazel's way to good old Sam. He's got plans for that kid," the creature screwed out, strained and sounding absolutely tortured. Dean had a hollow feeling in his stomach once he heard this confession. What was that supposed to mean? Who was Azazel? What plans did he have for Sam? He heard the nasty, cold laugh of the demon as the fear must have reached his face and became visible. It was a triumphant laugh that made his blood run cold. Mercilessly he eyed the son of a bitch and spattered his laughing grin with more holy water – the laughter turned into whimpers and high-pitched howls, sounds of torture that satisfied Dean deep inside. He smiled grimly when the thing calmed down.

"What plans, spill it out! And who's Azazel?" he hissed. The answers never came. Before he could do anything about it, the demon used Castiel's fist to hit the possessed therapist right in the face. The body staggered a little backwards. Dean held his breath as he regarded the given sight in silent horror. Blood was dripping down from Castiel's nose, ran darkly and thickly over his plump lips. The black eyes stared at him threateningly.

"If you hurt me, I'll hurt him!"

Panic flared up in Dean's chest, his heart skipped several beats. Castiel's bruised face was horrible to look at. Suddenly all his questions didn't seem that important any longer, not when there was already drawing blood.

He had no time to react or to answer adequately – within seconds the demon punched Castiel's face over and over again, with such an unyielding force that it made Dean's whole body tremble, his knees almost gave way. He heard the soft moans and gasps of Castiel's poor suffering body at every hit. With shaky fingers he opened his notebook and began the long overdue exorcism.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," he read with a trembling voice, but his words gained power the longer he spoke, his eyes focused on the notebook.

"We will kill you, boy! We will hurt everyone you love, until we get Sam!" the creature laughed viciously as it kept clobbering Castiel. The sound of knuckles meeting soft flesh was gruesome, a cold shiver ran down Dean's spine. He gulped heavily.

"Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii," he continued, raising his gaze to the demon. Castiel's whole body was shaking violently, the raised fist was held in mid-air, forgotten for the moment. The black eyes had rolled into the back of his head, causing the white of Castiel's eyes to show. It wouldn't take much longer now.

"Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte."

"I will return for you. And when I'm done with you, I'll kill this meat suit as well!" the demon squeaked; another cloud of fear hovered above Dean's head, the threats seemed far too severe and real to ignore them.

"The hell you will! Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!"

Just in time Dean looked up to see the demon leave Castiel's body: Castiel threw his head back and opened his mouth as wide as possible – a terrible, blood-freezing scream left him as the dark smoke twirled out of him, towards the air. It vanished within nanoseconds with Dean watching it somewhat awestruck. There was an exhausted, quavering moan and suddenly, Dean was conscious of Castiel again.

The man stood in front of his window, his eyes half-closed and unfocussed, rather hazy. His face was soaked through with holy water, his hair had gotten its share as well, and the strands were darker and damp. His nose was bleeding; his lips were battered and cluttered with countless cuts. He was dangerously swaying to and fro, about to lose his sense of balance. Dean wanted to weep at the mere sight of Castiel, ache corded up his throat. He reached out his arms and heaved Castiel carefully inside- one arm underneath his armpit, the other gently draped around his waist. Castiel's arms came around Dean's neck naturally and he hid his wrecked face in the crook of Dean's neck as Dean carried him to the bed. The grip of his fingers on Dean's shoulders was unusually desperate and firm.

**TBC**

Omg so sorry for letting the chapter end here...! Let me know what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my lovely readers! Is it just me or is every day becoming more and more stressful? So much to do, so little time! Thanks for your constant interest and reviews, you flatter me! A quick note: Thanks a million times for proofreading, Angelphoenixwings14! It's funny, I seem to make different errors now to keep you entertained x) Another annotation if you want to have a good read: I want to recommend the story of my beta reader Second Chances, you should also check out Listae's stories as well as Faith Valconbridge's "A thousand beautiful things" – ALL Destiel. Leave them some love, we could all need that!
> 
> Now, back to my own two drama queens… x)

**Chapter 15**

Cautiously, Dean sat Castiel down on his bed and crouched down, so that he was kneeling between his legs. Castiel just sat there, his whole body slumped down: his shoulders were slouched, his head hung down, his hands were placed into his lap, unmoving. Dean placed his warm palms reassuringly on Castiel's cold, muscular thighs. He could feel the tremor still coursing through the dark-haired man's body restlessly, as if he was drowning in the depths of a dark, cold ocean, searching for warmth. Worried, Dean studied Castiel's worn out features. Blood and water trickled down his jaw in small rivulets, dropped down on his black shirt; little pools of the mingled liquids were forming on the ground as the seconds elapsed. Dean searched for Castiel's answering look, but his lover just kept his lids shut and remained awfully silent, disturbingly silent. Paralyzed.

All at once, the dam broke and tears ran down Castiel's cheeks rapidly. Unspeakably many found their way over the moonlit skin, formed tearing cracks on Dean's heart. A hand of his went stray in Castiel's hair; gently he stroked through the moist strands, let his thumb brush over the wet temple.

Eventually Castiel opened his eyes and looked down at Dean, while the other knelt in front of him and cupped his face tenderly. The tears were unstoppable then, even more came. Castiel huffed a humourless laugh once their eyes met, then he closed his eyes again and leaned into the soft touch of Dean's palm against his cheek with a pained sensuality beautifying his features. He cried quietly, dry sobs resounded in his throat, shaking his chest. Dean felt pity and guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders – the sight was simply unbearable. Castiel seemed utterly shattered, haggard.

Before Dean was sure if it was the right approach to this disaster, he sat up and wrapped his arms around the weeping man, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. Instantly he felt answering hands on his back, drawing him closer. Their chest collided in one hard line; it was good to feel the reality of firm bodies instead of vague terrors filling their minds. When Castiel buried his face on Dean's shoulder, Dean didn't care about the blood or the water and the tears saturating his T-shirt. All that mattered was to hold Castiel in his arms again, to know he was alive. His moist breaths warming his shoulder were the most comforting feeling Dean could think of in this moment.

Carefully, he sifted his fingers through Castiel's smooth raven hair, massaged his scalp lovingly, while his other hand caressed his lean back with steady up and down movements. Castiel rested his whole body weight on Dean, apparently too wrought-up to carry it himself. Dean didn't know how much time passed like this, maybe eons, maybe only minutes, while their bodies were closely entangled in each other – but he waited patiently for Castiel to calm down, while he scolded himself inwardly. He was the reason this had happened, he was the cause for Castiel's misery. It grieved him unimaginably the moment he realized he had to stay away from Castiel to prevent future such incidents. One day, better sooner than later, he had to fade out of the therapist's life, for Castiel's sake. He was too close to him already, and look how well that had panned out. But now wasn't the time to bid adieu to him, Dean had to take care of the mess he had created. He disengaged a little and searched for Castiel's responding eyes. He tried to feign an encouraging smile. His thumbs wiped the blood and the tears away from Castiel's reddened cheeks; slowly, he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, his eyes never releasing Castiel's.

"You're safe now. I'll watch over you," he whispered, staring firmly at Castiel; his voice sounded thick with emotional pain. Thousands of feelings raged within him, confused Dean. There was endless love for Castiel blooming inside his heart, accompanied by anxiety and numerous worries burning in the pit of his stomach; the longer he regarded Castiel's dinged up appearance, the more it hurt to see him that way. Where was the mirthful glimmer in those gorgeous blue eyes? Where had the little, charming smile disappeared to? All that he had left now was a broken man, and Dean was to blame for this catastrophe. Castiel nodded slowly and closed his eyes once more. He appeared deadly tired. Dean got up carefully and walked into the bathroom. He moisturized a towel and returned. With a compassionate smile, he sat down beside Castiel and reached out a hand to turn Castiel's face towards him.

He felt lost and deeply wounded as they sat there on his bed in the night's twilight, face to face, like some scared children who had just woken up from a startling nightmare, seeking comfort in a trusted companion. Castiel looked at him as if Dean was a ghost, as if none of this was real. Like he was trapped in a coma, far away from this world. The wild flicker in his beautiful eyes, his erratic breaths as he stared expressionlessly at Dean...He couldn't take it. He had to bring Cas back to him. Warily Dean leaned forward until his face was solely a few centimeters apart from Castiel's. He could sense warm exhales fanning against his bottom lip sensually as they shared the thick, moist air between them; all of a sudden a certain knowledge came to Castiel's eyes as they focused on Dean's. A melancholic smile tugged at his sinful lips and Dean thought he would collapse right there and then. Hope permeated him that Castiel was alright, all things considered, that he would bounce back somehow.

Dean returned the smile honestly and encompassed Castiel's face with his hands. With gentle pressure he pulled him closer and placed a chaste, cautious kiss on his injured mouth, holding still in anticipation of rejection. Castiel became dreadfully rigid for a heart-stopping second, then he melted against Dean wholly, opened up to him beautifully as if the placid touch of Dean's lips brought him back to life. His fingers mirrored Dean's gesture, and he framed his lover's cheeks and welcomed him heartily. Castiel tasted of metallic blood and syrupy warmth, but there was this everlasting sweetness within his mouth that was solely Cas. His essence made Dean's head swirl, for too long he had missed this taste, the pressure of these soft lips moving against his own. Dean was pervaded with delight and lust when Castiel kissed him passionately; they exchanged breathless, open-mouthed kisses. Again and again their hands dragged the other closer and their kisses became less controlled, less chaste. A raging feverishness dwelt in their kisses and touches, spoke volumes of their felt worries and fears. When they finally let go, Castiel's lips were kiss-swollen, beads of blood appeared on the opened cuts. Dean smiled melancholically at him and dared to let his forefinger glide over the red pearls. Castiel sucked in a trembling breath at that, his lids fluttered shut.

Dean grabbed the forgotten towel and started cleaning Castiel's face while the other man remained perfectly still, seemingly petrified due to Dean's caresses. He took his time to whisk off every stain of blood, every drying tear. He was as gentle with Castiel as he could, and the man seemed to relax with each passing minute, obviously enjoying Dean's affectionate ministrations.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Castiel admitted under his breath, his lids still closed; pain resounded gut-wrenchingly in his voice. Dean's stomach did harsh somersaults at hearing those words. They were the first words Castiel had said since his rescue; the content of this simple sentence overflowed Dean with joy, because it was evident how horrendous losing him seemed to Castiel. It made Dean feel extremely loved, there was a huge, aching lump of fondness growing in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He gulped heavily. Too slain with emotions, he pressed another light kiss on Castiel's lips, allowed his lips to remain on those bruised ones for a second too long. He pulled back slowly and made sure Castiel's eyes were resting on his as he smiled lovingly at him. His heart almost burst with pleasure when he recognized the brittle, sweet smile coming to his lover's lips.

"Don't worry, you won't get rid of me so easily," he said nonchalantly as if nothing had happened. Castiel scoffed a brief laugh and his smile widened, reached his eyes. He nodded slowly, pensively, and it seemed to Dean that the memories of his possession were slowly fading, just like that. A dark veil had been lifted from him and now Castiel was back, free from the weight of sorrows; his heart mended gradually.

Dean couldn't exactly remember how things proceeded from here on, but within minutes Castiel sat in his lap, his arms slung around Dean's back, his face hidden on Dean's broad shoulder. He held on to Dean as if his life depended on it; he left a thousand tiny kisses on Dean's check and throat while his fingers dug deeper into the flesh of Dean's sides. Dean savoured the sensation of cradling Castiel in his arms like that, to feel his body weight on him once more. It was reassuring and such a precious, quiet moment between them...

Dean was deeply grateful for it. He assumed they both needed to feel the other's presence again - to know that the other was safe and to share breaths and heartbeats together while heat arose between their bodies... When Castiel was about to give in to the fatigue overrunning him, Dean felt him becoming slack and heavy in his arms. His breaths were shallow and deep, and he was one step away from falling asleep while sitting in Dean's lap. Reluctantly, Dean withdrew a little and Castiel sat up straight as well. The smile he gave him spoke of embarrassment, with his cheeks tinted in a shade of soft pink. His eyes skittered nervously in different directions until he looked down.

"I think I should leave now," Castiel finally said into the silence lingering between them. Dean smiled wistfully at him and dared to draw him in for another heartfelt, innocent kiss. Somehow his palms had landed on Castiel's pecs, he felt the aroused shiver running through his lean body as Dean's hands moved on his torso, stroking him absentmindedly through their kisses. Dean pulled back breathlessly and looked firmly into Castiel's eyes, not allowing any kind of uncertainty to com) to life between them.

"Stay, Cas. There's no way I'm letting you return to your apartment without me. I'll keep you safe, you should sleep," he purred with a low voice, seeing the effect it had on Castiel – relief appeared on his face, the worry lines disappeared instantly. If it was even possible his cheeks darkened more, he seemed a little flustered and taken aback by Dean's suggestion. Before he could give Dean an answer, Dean had already spread him out on the bed, placing him on the mattress gently. He left Cas' legs in his lap and stroked one of his upper thighs slowly while his eyes remained on Castiel's as he sat beside him. Amazement was visible in the dark blue eyes; Castiel was obviously dumbstruck, unable to avert his mellow gaze from Dean.

"Sleep, Cas. I'm here... I've got you," Dean whispered. It gained him a sweet, soothed smile. In a trice Castiel closed his lids and fell into an untroubled, deep slumber. Dean remained exactly where he was, leaned against the wall with Castiel's legs resting on his lap. For a while he did nothing else but stare into the darkness of the night, his head filled with a thousand warring thoughts. His gaze switched between the window and the silent landscape outside and Castiel's sleeping figure, so close and trustful next to him. It suffused him with a wispy cloud of infatuation and tenderness to realize how much faith Castiel had in him, how he could relax around Dean despite the recent events. As if he was his saviour, his guardian angel. Dean knew he didn't deserve this trust, not at all. He was immensely troubled, for turmoil was clashing with his heart, urging him to see reason - his mind and heart fought merciless battles; conflicts that spoke of guilt, desires, worries and fear. He would never forgive himself for bringing Castiel into this situation, for letting a demon possess him and wear him out.

All in all Dean slept no more than two hours this night, his head awkwardly pillowed against the wall behind him. His hands never left Castiel's thighs because he needed to convince himself the other was still here with him. His sleep was light and often disturbed by blurry visions and heart-splitting nightmares. The demon's words resounded in his head endlessly; the sight of Castiel's black eyes and his bloody face made Dean become awake with a start several times that night. Then his eyes transfixed on the sleeping man beside him – it soothed him to watch his chest rise and fall with every deep breath, and eventually, he allowed himself to fall asleep again, postponing his worries until tomorrow.

…

At the crack of dawn Dean was already awake, as wary and as combat-ready as ever. His every instinct told him to stay focused, to watch every movement around him and to estimate it as perilous or not. He was good at that – shoving his feelings aside for as long as necessary in order to survive, in order to get the job done. It was a trait John had cherished him for – in comparison to Sam, Dean could be emotionally cold and unforgiving. He knew it wasn't exactly charming or healthy, but it had often saved their lives. And now he had to take care of Castiel, whatever the cost. He was prepared to fight as long as he needed to. He yearned to ensure no evil son of a bitch would ever lay its hands on the dark-haired man again, not as long as Dean was around. In the greyish dimness he regarded Castiel's calm features for uncounted minutes. He looked angelic, untouched by wickedness. The creases on his forehead spoke of bygone pains and horrendous events he had to suffer – but these torments only embellished his gleaming loveliness, clutched Dean's heart tightly.

Dean smiled sadly as he felt his chest flushed with tenderness for the other man. But the illusion of having him was outlived, because he had to let go. His sanity admonished him to stop this downward spiral of violence and threats, which surrounded Castiel now – he needed to break these shackles he was to blame for and free Castiel from them, so that he could continue his life undisturbed. But why did it hurt him so to imagine his life without Castiel? Why did his eyes well up with tears at the mere idea of leaving the other behind? A mask of affliction appeared on Dean's face when the inner conflict rebelled within him. Very softly he encompassed Castiel's night-chilled cheek; a moved smile crept on his lips when Castiel leaned into his warm palm subconsciously, a relieved sigh escaped the pink, merely parted lips. Dean gulped heavily, disregarding the fact he would have to leave Castiel one of these days.

When Castiel opened his eyes around seven in the morning, he was instantly wide awake. Clarity was easily perceptible in his bright, blue irises as he found Dean sitting by his side, his legs still resting in Dean's lap. Dean tried to give him a calming smile, but his heart ached savagely when he only received a forced, mild smile in return. The expression in Castiel's eyes was dull, void of the vitality it usually contained, and it alarmed Dean terribly – there were no words for the fears he went through. Castiel got up and groaned as he stretched himself languidly, Dean watched him stand while he still sat on the bed. He was confused due to the lack of kisses; it was not like he and Castiel were in a relationship and impelled to share caresses, but it unsettled Dean more than he liked to admit that Castiel just smiled tiredly at him and ran a hand through his own ruffled hair. The dreariness in his blue eyes simply didn't seem to leave, and it caused Dean's heart to tear up further. He gulped heavily when they gazed at each other for a few moments – he felt so far away from Castiel, as if they had never shared intimacies and the passion of untamed infatuation.

"I'd like to go home now," Castiel finally said. He looked defeated as his shoulders slumped down and Dean was sorry for him, ignoring his own heartbreak. Castiel's eyes were red from crying; dark bruises were scattered all over his nose and lips, crusted scratches were on his cheeks. His knuckles were lacerated; deep worry lines remained on his forehead as he tilted his head and avoided Dean's scrutinizing look.

"I'll see you home," he concluded thoughtlessly – at that, Castiel's eyes blazed up with an unreadable emotion, his lips opened in surprise as he gaped at Dean silently. The idea of a touched smile tugged at the corner of his therapist's mouth and for the first time this day, Dean felt a little becalmed, even though Castiel's body language spoke of wariness and keeping Dean at distance. He couldn't blame him for this abrupt change of behaviour; after all, he had been possessed and Dean had freed him from this demon, it must have been unsettling for an outsider of the supernatural world. Castiel nodded and Dean spared himself the trouble to get changed or to shower. He hadn't showered yesterday and he was a little worried about his appearance and body odour, but bringing Castiel home safely now had top priority at the moment.

He rummaged in his duffel bag for a moment, grabbing a few things he deemed helpful and shoved them into the pockets of his jeans. When they exited the secure confines of Dean's room and walked along the void corridor, Dean's eyes often fled to Castiel, examining the man next to him closely. He seemed tensed up and still over-fatigued. The silence lingering between them was strained. Deep inside of him Dean felt frustration materializing; he had guessed this fling between them would eventually end in tears and boil down to awkward conversations. It just astonished him the end had come so soon. Though he felt like crying, it was probably for the best.

They came to the reception and Karen greeted them with a cheerful "Good morning" - the smile died on her mouth as soon as she had laid eyes on Castiel. Dean let him talk with her for a few minutes; he couldn't hear what he was saying under his breath as he waited a few feet away, but he assumed he was making up a lame excuse why he hadn't appeared at work yesterday. Fortunately today was a Saturday, so he didn't have to will himself to work in this condition. Dean hated the worried look on Karen's face and how closely they stood side by side – he couldn't see Castiel's face because he had his back turned towards Dean, but he could recognize the concern and affection for Castiel in Karen's eyes.

He had never noticed it because he had never seen them together, but he realized Karen cared about Castiel quite a lot, and that produced a nasty sentiment of possessiveness and jealousy in Dean's heart. It dampened his spirits even more; a melancholic bitterness grew like a deadly cancer within him, burnt through him sickeningly. The ache in his chest was unbearable, he gasped for air like a dying fish out of water. His heart gave out, his knees buckled for a short second. He understood Karen was most likely the better match for Castiel – someone with a normal life, who could give Castiel all the things Dean could never give him: Stability, safety, a shelter.

He swallowed down his anger when the two ended their hushed conversation and as Castiel returned to him, wearing a somewhat exhausted mien when their eyes met. God, he hated himself for being who he was, he hated Karen for liking Castiel, and even more so he hated Castiel, for he was all Dean wanted and longed for and all he could never have. He hated how they remained silent as they sauntered through the park, their pace a little slow thanks to the damn crutches Dean still had to use. The early morning was dewy and misty, the sky was cloudy; scarce, pale rays of silver light struggled through the clouds and rested on them as they walked to Castiel's apartment in silence.

Dean felt utterly miserable. He had thought he meant more to Castiel. He acknowledged to himself that he might have seen more than there had been because he had fallen in love with him, but to be rejected so easily... especially after last night, when he had put the debris Cas had been back together and made sure he was safe... How had it come to this? Why was there this huge abyss between them that forced them to not look at each other and to remain silent? Dean observed Castiel's shoulders as he unlocked his apartment door, his back facing Dean. He still felt the same about Castiel, even though the other seemed cold towards him. He didn't dare utter a word because he feared he wouldn't be able to keep it together and snap, and that was the last thing either of them needed. Castiel opened the door and walked inside, not even making an effort to invite Dean in or to pay attention to him. Dumbstruck, Dean stood on the threshold, watching Castiel disappear in his bedroom all too quickly. What was he supposed to do? He should probably just leave him to himself and allow him some freedom to clear up his head. Regardless of these thoughts, he apparently had no say in that matter, because his body hobbled inside and shut the door before he could think twice about it.

Cautiously he clumped to the ajar door of Castiel's bedroom and when he halted and rested his body weight on his crutches, the given sight moved his heart with embitterment. He felt like weeping, but no tears came to his eyes, he had no words of comfort to give. Castiel had gathered all the carvings and placed them on the racks with an odd tranquility. His motions were delicate and composed, but Dean detected the trembling in his fingers when his hands returned the figures to the racks. Half of his face was turned to Dean and he recognized the sober, stern countenance on the beautiful features, remaining there as if Castiel had never smiled in his whole life. Dean's heart throbbed with pain, all he wanted was to reassure Castiel he was fine now, that no one could do harm to him. All at once, Castiel spoke, and his hoarse, dark voice cut through the silence like a sharp knife, opened invisible wounds inside of Dean. He was bleeding inwardly, hot blood rinsed through his intestines as Castiel's narration upset him.

"You know... whatever that thing was... It told me it would kill you. It would make sure to use my hands to rip you apart," Castiel said while he continued to arrange the figures to his liking. The quaver had reached his whole upper body by now as the memories came back, and even though he acted as if nothing was wrong, it struck Dean hard to see the grief and the fear consuming him so obviously. He never looked at Dean while he spoke, and Dean assumed he tried to compose himself like that, that it was easier to get the words out when he didn't look at him.

"It interrogated me, now it knows everything there is to know about me. And... and when you chased it away, it told me it would return and find us both... Just so you know why I have to stand clear of you. I don't want to hurt you."

At last the penny dropped, comprehension came to Dean's mind. I don't want to hurt you. He inhaled a shaky breath, feeling sympathy and plain affection for Castiel rattling through him. So that was what this had been about! The distance, the silence... He wasn't worried about his own safeness; he was scared for Dean. It infused Dean with nothing but love, choked him with emotion as he understood how very dear he must be to Castiel. Slowly he approached him as if he was coming closer to a wild, hurt animal. Castiel remained still, his head was tilted as he contemplatively sighted the carved dove Dean had laid eyes on this past Friday. He held it near by his heart desperately. Gently, Dean put his hand above Castiel's and covered it; immediately Castiel's eyes shot up, beholding Dean with wide, startled eyes. Creases of sorrow came to his forehead as their faces were merely inches apart. Dean smiled lovingly at him, a flicker of nervousness appeared in the lavender-blue irises as they drowned in each other's soft glances. Dean's fingers squeezed Castiel's to appease him, and the other man sighed wretchedly.

"I don't know what's in my power to do, but I promise you this: You won't hurt me, and I won't allow anybody to hurt you. Alright?" Dean knew this promise would be hard to keep, but Castiel needed to hear these words now, and he wanted to believe in their truth too. When Castiel looked up from underneath his lashes, his eyes were heavy with meaning and a brightly burning intensity; Dean let his crutches fall and encompassed Castiel's face tempestuously, unable to hold back any longer. He felt him subtly nod as they gazed at each other, and a mild smile graced the bruised, plump lips. So very slowly Castiel leaned his head forward and rested his forehead against Dean's. He closed his lids as ease overwhelmed him, Dean couldn't help but smile at the soothed expression so close to him.

"Alright," Castiel said, and it was nothing more but a faint whisper, causing Dean's hair to stand on end.

It didn't matter that they were both tired out and not showered; they smelt of sleep, exhaustion and tears. When their lips met, it seemed to Dean as if things had been set right again. He melted away in the feeling of Castiel's slightly chapped, smooth lips moving against his. Their kisses were wild and a little sloppy, especially when their tongues slid together to devour the other greedily. This felt as essential as breathing, and Dean actually whimpered into their warm French kisses as Castiel's hands stroked his nape and twisted some unruly hair between his fingers. He could inhale his unique scent while their mouths brushed over each other sensually – it felt like salvation had come to them to nurse them in a becalming embrace. Dean let his hands slide down the lean sides of Castiel's body as he sensed the tension rapidly leaving him. The dark-haired man sighed against Dean's mouth longingly and moved closer, so that their bellies were conjoined. When they let go of each other, thoroughly out of breath, Dean felt like semi hard jelly. A sweet queasiness boiled in his stomach as his heart did violent jumps: There it was again, the bright, mirthful gleam in Castiel's eyes he had missed so dearly. A brittle, content smile paused on the kiss-wet lips as he regarded Dean happily.

"We reek. Do you want to join me in the shower?" Castiel deadpanned and Dean laughed heartily, overjoyed when Castiel joined him and chuckled lightly. He nodded and intertwined his fingers with Castiel's. Unbearable lightness took a hold of him as he allowed Castiel to lead him out of his bedroom. He was slowly walking with a limp, but it was alright, because Castiel made sure he didn't fall or stumble. Dean considered their interlaced hands, smiling fondly to himself. As long as Castiel didn't draw back, he wouldn't do so either.

**TBC**

So, here you have it – what do you think? Thoughts, suggestions, comments?


	16. Chapter 16

Hey readers! Are you still with me? x) So, an update on a Wednesday, huh, weird – but tomorrow I'll watch the Hobbit and the next days will be busy too, so... x) I received some nice comments about this story recently, so thanks for your support! ImnotaSatanistIjustloveLucifer asked whether I will include Karen / Cas / jealous Dean more often - tbh, I dunno, we'll see! Deep gratitude to the lovely Faith Valconbridge for beta-reading this chapter, though her days are so stressful! Yadda yadda yadda, here's the update 8D

**Chapter 16**

Incredible tenderness thrived between them effortlessly as they stood in Castiel's bathroom and undressed each other slowly. The atmosphere was intimate and tensed up with thrills of pleasure rushing through them, but nothing too sexual lingered in the air. Dean simply marveled at the easiness with which their fingers glided over their bodies, it felt like coming home and reassured him deeply to the bones. Castiel's fingers stroking the over shirt from Dean's shoulders while he left tiny kisses on Dean's jaw, Dean's hands undoing Castiel's jeans pointedly calm... As long as he could perceive the warmth radiating from this lean, bare torso so close to his, and as long as Castiel showered his neck and chin with chaste kisses, Dean thought he felt more than just alright.

Time was laughably irrelevant as were the troubles and doubts outside this small bathroom. It was a ridiculous trifle to pull down Castiel's jeans and pants and to let him do the same to him in return – they had seen each other naked before, and though Dean chided himself not to stare, because he knew it would arouse him, he couldn't help but let his eyes skitter over the admirable body in front of him as if he was starving for the given sight. In Castiel's eyes he detected a tiny glint of cheekiness, he was glad to see the buoyant gleam again. Thankfully they were pragmatic enough to delay any possible make out sessions as they were in urgent need of a lengthy shower. He followed Castiel a little clumsily into the shower stall, the warm stream of water was already running busily. In an instant they were wet and Dean thanked God this wasn't another broken shower of a cheap motel room. The water was accurately warm, not too hot and not too cold, and the water pressure massaging his shoulders was simply divine... For a second he just stood under the spray and enjoyed the pleasurable experience with closed eyes.

Suddenly there were nimble fingers in his hair, shampooing him. He smiled softly and allowed Castiel to prolong the process unnecessarily. Spontaneously his hands encircled the small waist within reach and he pulled Castiel's naked, wet body flush against his. For a gut-wrenching second his heart stumbled and dizziness took over Dean. The fingers had wandered to his shoulders and drew him nearer while Dean rested his forehead on Castiel's boney, broad shoulder, losing himself in their placid embrace. Like this they stood under the warm water, huddled up to one another. Dean could feel _everything_ of Castiel's body against his... His soft parts pressed against his idly, their hipbones collided with each other, their tummies sandwiched so that not even a drop of water had space between them... With every breath their chests moved together and the friction and slide of their smooth wet skin made Dean's knees weak, he felt absolutely light-headed and aroused. Castiel kissed his neck and sucked at his throat sluggishly. A dark chuckle rumbled through Dean when he noted teasing teeth biting his thin, sensitive skin there – Castiel nibbled repeatedly at the pulse point of Dean's throat, and Dean let him create a dark hickey there deliberately.

It was so comforting to feel Castiel's so close again, to hold him in his arms and to know he was perfectly safe. It appeared to Dean as if normalcy was slowly returning to them, so that they had time to focus on the affection growing between them. He didn't know how they made it, but at some point they had managed to let the other go and soap themselves – their fingertips were already wrinkled and Dean felt as clean as a newborn. He absorbed Castiel's appearance in the shower as he stood before him with a pensive, honest smile on his plump, pink lips. They were wet as were his strands of hair – some of them lay unruly on his forehead and Dean brushed them gently away. Castiel's lids fluttered shut at the tender caress, his mouth opened sensually as he leaned into the touch. Before Dean knew what he was doing he tilted his head and pressed his lips on Castiel's. He tasted of water and warmth and cleanliness. Within seconds they were kissing extensively, paying attention to wrecking the other eagerly. Heat was tangible in their kisses, it punched the air out of Dean's lungs. Frantic breaths fanned against Dean's face, he opened his mouth further and allowed Castiel's tongue inside. When their tongues glided slowly together, an appreciative hum escaped Castiel and he drew nearer. Slick palms wandered down Dean's spine, over the curve of his ass. He squeaked aghast when Castiel's hands groped the cheeks of his ass unabashedly. He stopped their kisses and withdrew slightly, Castiel just grinned at him boldly and smacked his ass playfully, making Dean scoff.

"Come on, I'm dissolving," Castiel reasoned and turned off the shower. Immediately, Dean felt the cold of the air hitting his moist body mercilessly when the veil of warm water left him, but then Castiel wrapped a huge bathing towel around his shoulders and the cozy warmth returned. Their eyes were fixed on each other as they toweled themselves quickly. Dean was completely speechless as he watched the soft smile on Castiel's lips, resting there as if nothing had happened. When they were done they winded the towels around their waists; Dean trailed Castiel slowly as the man went to his bedroom, rummaging in his dresser for clean clothes. He threw a black T-shirt and some blue-plaid boxer shorts in Dean's approximate direction and Dean caught them skillfully. Emotions constricted his throat as he felt the soft texture of Castiel's clothes in his hands – it moved him to lend clothes from him, it felt far too familiar and intimate. He put them on and observed Castiel don a pair of tight-fitting black pants and a gray T-shirt as well. Within seconds Castiel flopped himself on his bed, his arms and legs widely splayed out, making Dean smile lovingly at the given picture.

Attentive blue eyes were resting on him, and Dean couldn't help but return the glance – he could not fail to note how angelic and _arrived_ Castiel looked in his rumpled sheets, like he belonged to this place somehow. He appeared calm and at peace with himself, as if nothing could ever disturb him here again. Even more so, it took Dean's breath away when their eyes clung to each other and he understood the expression dwelling in the dark blue orbs – that _he_ was a part of Castiel's world now too, that _he_ belonged here as well. He gulped heavily and ran a nervous hand through his wet hair. His heart thundered loudly inside him, beat a frantic pace.

A sudden agitation took over him, he felt like he didn't deserve so much fondness. He distracted himself and rummaged in the pockets of his jeans, which he had left on the floor of the bathroom carelessly. He returned to Castiel's bedroom with the things he had brought and sat down on the mattress next to him, smiling hesitantly at him. He took the other's hand into his and placed the necklace with the little pendant into his palm and let Castiel have a look at it when he pulled his hand away. The necklace was silver and thin, the pendant was an anti-possession sigil. Confusion was written all over Castiel's face when he regarded Dean sceptically. He inhaled deeply, then he sighed.

"The thing which came to you was a demon. If you wear this necklace it will prevent another possession of your body. No demon can enter you when you wear it. Hate to say that, but I have to draw some banishing signs on some walls and windows of your flat – hope you don't mind? I have a non-permanent marker with me..."

Castiel nodded, then he eyed the necklace in his palm mistrustfully as if Dean was a dumb charlatan telling lies. It seemed to Dean as if Castiel was shoving his doubts aside, because he strapped the necklace on – the thin silver created a beautiful contrast to his slightly tanned, rosy skin. It underlined his blue irises brightly and he smiled a little when he looked at Dean once more.

"You know, if I hadn't experienced it myself I'd think you're nuts. Draw whatever you deem important."

Dean got up with a little laugh and smirked at Castiel amusedly.

"That's why I hadn't told you what I'm doing. No one ever believes me," he said with a grin, then he set himself to work to make Castiel's flat demon-proof. It didn't take a long time, Dean left a few sigils in Castiel's kitchen and on his apartment door. When he returned to Castiel's bedroom, his lover lay on his side peacefully and considered him with a long, thoughtful look. He patted the empty bedside invitingly and Dean lay down beside him cautiously. It felt plainly _right_ and so comfortable when Castiel cuddled up to him and pillowed his head on Dean's stomach. He draped one arm around Dean's abdomen; Dean could feel the hot, moist breath bedewing his shirt gradually, but he didn't mind. He put his arm around Castiel's frame and let his other hand stroke through the wet strands tenderly. If this was a dream, he never wanted it to end. How insane to think about ever leaving Castiel – how could he? His heart thudded gently in his chest, utterly satisfied and tranquilized.

"Would you tell me all the stuff you held back?" Castiel asked quietly into the comfortable silence and Dean winced a little. Stings of remorse pinched him – he knew he was not allowed to reveal the family secret, and Sam would probably rip him a new one. But how could he remain silent any longer? Castiel deserved to understand what had happened to him, and it ate Dean up to keep secrets from him. He _wanted_ Castiel to know every little detail about him, so how could he keep his mouth shut? He couldn't. Before he could turn round, he was telling Castiel _everything_ right down to the last detail. Once the words left his mouth it was impossible to stop their flow – they were like a relieving mountain stream washing him clean, and to pronounce them at last released the pain Dean had carried within him for so long.

A sentiment of uncertainty expanded in Dean's chest the more he revealed of himself and the life he had come to know – all the time the thought hovered above his head what Castiel would think of all this. Would he be disgusted, appalled by Dean's narrations? Would he even believe him, and would these confessions change their relationship? Maybe Castiel would finally realize what a poor match Dean was for him. That he wasn't someone you should surround yourself with. He feared his condemnation. Nevertheless he told him about his mother's death, how it had brought his family to this kind of life. Briskly he gave him a crash course about all the nasty things lurking in the dark – he felt Castiel's breath falter several times as he told of vampires, ghosts, reapers and other unworldly creatures. His therapist became rigid in his arm often, but Dean could practically feel the interest seeping through his every pore, how he listened to Dean attentively, afire for more.

It seemed like hours had elapsed, the daylight shining through the window of Castiel's bedroom showed the forenoon had arrived. The sun's rays provided some welcome warmth as they dwelt on the bed, their relaxed bodies closely entangled. Dean stopped talking at some point and savored the sound of every breath Castiel made. He let his fingers sift through the damp, dark hair tenderly, waiting for a respond to his private disclosures. All at once Castiel uplifted his head and sat up beside Dean, contemplating him with a fond, firm look. Dean felt utterly breathless, thoughtless, as Castiel's hand cupped his cheek and as he tilted his head slowly. Tears were welling in his gorgeous blue eyes, he smiled deeply moved. Pain corded up Dean's throat, it was a bittersweet love he felt for Castiel as the man was so close to him, wearing such a beautiful expression on his lovely face. He closed his eyes when Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's, pressing them together ferociously. Dean heard him huff a brief laugh and ease coursed through his system instantly. Castiel's fingers dug into his cheek firmer, drew him in.

"It feels so good to know you, Dean. To know all of you eventually," Castiel whispered, his breath was ghosting over Dean's opened lips like a tentative, warm caress. Feathery kisses were placed on Dean's lids, his heart leapt into his throat. The worshiping kisses did not stop then – Castiel kissed his mouth with such carefulness that Dean couldn't help but feel fragile, completely exposed to the other man. He gave in to temptation and responded to his skilled kisses eagerly, melting against his admirable mouth. Soon he let every thought go as he dispersed in the peace of the moment. He embraced Castiel's back and pulled him down as their kisses intensified, became more and more passionate. Dean was so overwhelmingly happy that Castiel didn't push him away, but that he accepted Dean for who he was and for what he knew. He had never felt such stunning bliss pumping through his veins, making everything weightless and wonderful... His usual obstinacy became insignificant around Castiel and he allowed himself to absorb every feeling he had forbidden himself and to drink the other man in as much as possible.

They fell asleep soon – the last night had drained all the supplies of their strengths. Apparently they were both too tired to make breakfast and so they drifted off to sleep without having eaten anything today. When Dean woke up around the late afternoon, Castiel was still sleeping soundly next to him. Ease smoothed his features, he looked hauntingly beautiful, unworried. The sun was shining sickeningly warm by now, Dean was slightly sweating. His stomach grumbled sulkily and he got up as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Castiel's well-deserved slumber. Silently he trotted to the bathroom and gathered the bundle of his forsaken jeans; he produced his toothbrush and cleaned his teeth (with Castiel's toothpaste, of course – it tasted of sweet mint, and Dean kind of liked that) while he looked at himself in the mirror. Somehow it seemed to him that his appearance had changed for the better. He looked less grim, as if he was permeated with a strange lightness that suited his young age better. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his cell phone sticking out his jeans pocket. A guilty conscience got the better of him: It was high time he called Sam – he hadn't talked to him since the chaos of last night, and he had to tell him what had happened ever since.

Dean hobbled to the kitchen and leaned back against the counter with a wrecked sigh as he listened to the dialing tone. Somehow he felt his little sheltered bubble would burst as soon as he would talk to Sam. But he couldn't continue living in this dream, he had to force himself back into the reality he had known all his life. It was the only reasonable thing to do. At long last Sam answered the phone.

"Hey, Dean. What's up? I guess you're both alright?" Sam greeted him, sounding sly. It made Dean smirk.

"Hi, Sammy. Yeah, we're alright. The exorcism worked... Sorry I didn't call you earlier, been a little occupied," Dean answered, trying to talk quietly in order not to awake Castiel. Sam scoffed.

"Yeah, I get that. How's Castiel doing?"

Dean could recognize the ambivalent tone resounding in Sam's question, implying more than he had said. Abruptly his shoulders tensed up, he felt a strange protective instinct flaring up inside of him.

"He's fine, knackered but fine. He's asleep now, so..."

"And when will you leave him alone and disappear? Did it ever occur to you that you're placing him in danger with your mere presence?" Sam snarled not too friendly. Dean gritted his teeth unknowingly.

"As you can imagine, my leg still needs the treatment. Or have you turned into a physiotherapist overnight? Also, what if the demon comes back for him, huh? What if I'm not there to protect him?" he retorted. He was seething with anger, and he couldn't help but sound hostile as he spat these words at Sam. His little brother's snarky, "Yeah, right," made Dean fume and see red.

"He is not your responsibility, Dean! Just bow to the inevitable and let him go, one of these days you need to leave him anyway. You think you care about him, but you don't. I've known you my whole life, and there has never been _anyone_ you felt so fond of in so little time. Whatever this thing between you two is, just _fuck it out_ and be done with it!"

Furiously Dean massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling a terrible headache closing in on him. He sighed and tried to suppress the tantrum growing within him. Sam's words hurt awfully, he felt a sudden sadness constricting his chest. _Fuck it out..._

"You know diddly-squat about this, so I suggest you keep your cake hole shut. Cas isn't just anyone... he's important to me, alright?"

There was a little lull in their conversation – Dean only heard the silent breaths of Sam at the other end of the line while he chewed pensively on his bottom lip. He felt deeply torn in two between his desires and obligations. Deep inside he knew Sam was right and that he needed to let go, but his heart broke at the mere idea into thousand sharp pieces.

"If he means anything to you, you stay the hell away from him. Got it?" Sam answered harshly. Then he hung up unceremoniously. Dean felt a terrible pit in his stomach, eating up every happy emotion he had felt within the last hours. How could a few sentences steal this elation away and leave him with nothing but miserable thoughts? For a short while he just stood in Castiel's kitchen, not knowing what to do or what to think. He was angry with Sam, but he was also sad because he knew how right his younger brother was. Worry gnawed at him mercilessly and he couldn't help but feel plainly horrible. The demon's revelation of the past night tore a hole into his heart, unease scraped through his mind. With a swift movement he called speed dial and waited until Sam picked up the phone again.

"Dean, I'm in no mood for discussions! What the hell do you want?" Sam snapped impatiently.

"Listen, smart ass. Could you imagine I might have something important to tell you that has nothing to do with Cas? Just keep your trap shut for a second and listen to me. Understood?" he hissed in return, not giving a damn about the unfriendly sound of his voice. Sam was strangely quiet, his words hadn't failed to have the desired effect.

"Good. I've managed to make the demon confess something – he said I was blocking the way to you. That someone called Azazel had plans for you. Does that name ring a bell? Any thoughts what this could mean?" Dean felt the exaltation running through him, it felt good to brood about a case again. He had missed this train of thoughts and reflecting about things with Sam. He heard him hum contemplatively for a few seconds.

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. Honestly, couldn't it be the demon just lied to you?"

"Well, do me a favor and do some research. The next time I meet a black-eyed bastard I want to be prepared and ask reasonable questions. And call me when you've found something, alright?"

"Alright Dean. Take care... the both of you," Sam said, sounding surprisingly affectionate. A touched smirk came to Dean's mouth when he comprehended Sam only cared about him and wanted the best for him. It seemed to Dean that he was condoned and that Sam would support him after all, regardless of any reasonableness.

"Yeah, you too," he responded kindly – when they ended the conversation, Dean still felt shaken, but the angry fume inside of him had left. Even though he felt better, he couldn't refrain from staying in the kitchen – it seemed to him he was standing between two worlds: Castiel was sleeping in his bedroom, the cruelest and yet sweetest temptation Dean had suffered in his whole life – and outside the apartment door, the known mayhem existed, to which Dean would have to return to eventually. This kitchen appeared like a shrine in which he could take a time out and rethink the last three weeks. It was weird and unexplainable, so Dean understood why Sam was so averse to the idea that Dean had changed so much for someone in so little time. But it was true... He _had_ changed, all because of Castiel. Dean didn't know where this change was taking him to or what the future held for them, but he wasn't afraid and he thirsted to find it out, together with Castiel. No one had ever had this effect on him...

It was already late in the afternoon when Castiel got himself out of bed and joined Dean in the kitchen – surprising him with his appearance all of a sudden so that he gave an awkward jerk. Castiel smiled softly at him and combed one of his hands through his unruly hair, which was sticking out in every possible direction. The rich golden sunlight shone through the kitchen's windows and beautified Castiel's drowsy features. Nonchalantly he approached Dean and slung his arms around Dean's waist – within seconds he had engulfed him in a warm, heartfelt hug. A soothed smile crept upon Dean's lips as he answered to the embrace and pulled Castiel closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His lengthy, low sigh resounded in the quiet kitchen and made Dean's heart thud with strong, violent beats.

Automatically his hands slid under the hem of Castiel's T-shirt and stroked the sleep-warm, smooth skin on the small of his back absentmindedly. He inhaled his scent deeply, a fond sensation was stirred in his gut. He laughed a little when he heard the loud stomach growling coming from Castiel, the man in his arms chuckled lightly too. When he pulled back he beheld Dean with a cheeky smirk, but Dean was too perplexed to say anything because the sunlight was refracting in Castiel's endless, deep blue eyes wonderfully. Their shade was so enchanting, it made Dean blush with affection. As if by magic they both tilted their heads and kissed each other longingly; Dean's hands around Castiel's waist tightened their grip and he held him closer to his chest. His whole being was flushed with yearning as he savored the taste of Castiel on his tongue, the feel of his tender lips moving against his with gentle pressure...

When their kiss came to an end, Castiel was all breathless – Dean couldn't help but smile once he detected the rosy blush tinting he dark-haired man's cheeks. He looked so ethereal, it was hard not to look at him every hour of the day.

"I'm starving. To be honest, I had dreamed you had prepared a three-course meal in the meantime!" Castiel complained playfully, making Dean scoff in surprise. Castiel detached himself from Dean and stuck out his tongue as Dean replied, "Yeah, keep on dreaming!" then he devoted himself to his fridge and stuck his head inside, searching for something to eat. Dean felt absolutely cozy in the domestic environment, how he and Castiel acted so versant around each other as if they knew each other for years, not meager three weeks.

"It's pizza, then," Castiel concluded with a sly smile. Dean just shrugged his shoulders, telling Castiel he was perfectly fine with the choice. He didn't remember how exactly it happened, but within moments he had his hands full with Castiel's warm body once more. The stove was preheating with a faint purr, Dean could feel it's lukewarm draft against his bare calves. Castiel had his arms wrapped around Dean's neck and showered his throat with thousand sweet kisses, paying attention to his Adam's apple with open-mouthed, greedy kisses. Dean's heart was suffused with love and inclination, embarrassed he felt a hot blush reddening his cheeks. He gave in to his desires and combed a hand gently through Castiel's dark hair; the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of his hip underneath his shirt and moved Castiel nearer against his own body.

An odd tremble traveled through Castiel, he became rigid in Dean's arms – for a moment his exhales stopped, became erratic. The next time his mouth continued its cautious work Dean could feel Castiel's teeth nibbling at his earlobe, sucking it into the moist, feverish heat of his mouth ardently. Dean tensed up, lava flows of pleasure streamed through his lower stomach. A wicked tongue glided over the length of his throat, casually Castiel pushed Dean's borrowed shirt aside to bite into his collarbone daringly. Dean bit on his bottom lip, trying to stifle the lewd moan which escaped him nevertheless. He could practically feel the smile of Castiel's lush lips against his naked skin.

"Will you stay for the weekend?" Castiel mumbled against his kiss-wet skin, almost inaudibly. He sounded breathless, his voice was soaked through with wistful desire. It made Dean all woozy, immediately he clutched Castiel and crushed him in his frantic embrace. Castiel moaned at that and melted wholly against Dean's frame, becoming slack and wanton in his arms. Before Dean knew what he was actually doing he buried his teeth in the presented nape, leaving bloody, possessive hickeys there. In between breaths and stumbling heartbeats he found the willpower to form words – the doubts and everyday problems simply had to wait a little while longer.

"I will" he gasped against Castiel's heated, wet skin. Pins and needles trickled down his spine, he stiffened when he heard Castiel's lengthy, relieved moan. Dean was certain he had a broad idea where this weekend would take them to...

**TBC**

Leeemmeee knoooowww whaaat youuu thinnnnnkkkk? x) Merci!


	17. Chapter 17

Hi darlings x) see at the end for author's notes

**Chapter 17**

Unfortunately, more worldly matters surpassed their pent-up passion and they had to restrain themselves for a wee bit. First, Castiel made Dean call the rehab-center to explain his absence; of course Dean told them a lie, that he was staying with his relatives for the weekend, and they bought it without hesitation. Then their hunger overruled their fervor and they retreated to the living room – they huddled up against one another on the comfortable sofa and ate delicious slices of pizza while they watched stupid daytime TV. Dean didn't object when Castiel got up and inserted a DVD; minutes later, they were half-heartedly watching "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", munching their food with pleasure. Dean had seen the movie at least five times in his life, and he assumed everybody else had seen it uncountable times as well, so it didn't feel weird to talk most of the time, and to keep still when funny parts killed their conversation momentarily and distracted them.

Dean laughed at Castiel's hilarious reaction when the two druggy main characters tried to enter the circus through a revolving door desperately, failing ridiculously thanks to their stoned conditions. It was one of Dean's favorite scenes, but now he was certain he would see the movie with different eyes. He couldn't resist watching Castiel come loose – his amused features, the sound of his carefree laughter, the bright gleam in his eyes... It made Dean fall in love with him all over again. He admired the tiny crow's feet wrinkles surrounding Castiel's eyes when he laughed, how young and unburdened he looked. At some point Castiel must have noticed Dean's glance on him, because he fell abruptly silent and turned his head in Dean's direction, meeting his steady look with his own. He nudged Dean's shoulder lovingly and smiled tenderly at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Have I leftovers on my face?" Castiel joked quietly and averted his gaze somewhat shyly. Dean moved closer and put his arm around Castiel's back; he tilted his head and searched for the magnificent, heavenly blue diamonds, and felt all sorts of blessed when Castiel dared to look at him again. His lips were slightly agape as he drowned in Dean's stern countenance, and a severe red dyed his face as if he was steaming hotly. Dean smiled and let his other hand sift through Castiel's soft hair slowly, his eyes never breaking contact with the other. With a sudden fever spike he fisted Castiel's hair coarsely and gave it a light tug, so that Castiel had to throw his head back a little. Dean's heart leapt into his throat, he felt utterly overwhelmed by his hunger for the other man. He couldn't withstand approaching his sinful lips with his own, only a hair's breadth separated them from kissing. He regarded Castiel unyieldingly and felt him soften up on him rapidly. As his hot breath ghosted wetly over Dean's lips, he was sure he saw Castiel's eyes dilate.

In the background the weird noises of the TV resounded, accompanied the situation with terrible music. Dean became a mess of desire in Castiel's nearness; he was unable to tear his eyes away from him. The multi-coloured light came to rest on Castiel's pale cheeks, refracted in his pupils hauntingly.

"Don't you know why? Haven't you guessed it?" Dean rasped quietly while his chest constricted with a pleasure close to pain – he saw the effect his words and proximity had on Castiel. The other trembled against him, he could sense the shaky exhales hitting his bottom lip agitatedly. Castiel turned into stone the moment Dean pillowed his mouth on his, for a second they held perfectly still. Then Dean devoured him with all he had, tilted his head and deepened their kisses fiercely. It didn't take long and Castiel responded to Dean with the same heady vehemence – his hands groped Dean's back and hair frenziedly as their tongues slid lewdly together, massaging one another skillfully. Arousal pumped through Dean almost dolorously as he eagerly kissed Castiel to satisfy his greed, and to educe the sweetest sounds from him. Oh, that quavering moan... That high-pitched sigh when Dean bit into his bottom lip and brought a hand underneath Castiel's shirt. He stroked along the convulsing abs passionately, feeling himself harden as the minutes elapsed. Whenever their lips let go, Dean could feel Castiel's mouth seeking for his, not wanting to say goodbye to him so soon.

Dean couldn't control himself as he grabbed Castiel's shoulders and pushed him down on the sofa with placid pressure. He followed the outstretched body and slid in between his legs, with his hands placed next to Castiel's sides to support his weight. Their laps pressed together intimately. Instinctively, Dean squeezed down and moved against Castiel's growing erection naturally. He observed Castiel's kiss-swollen lips opening to a mute scream, throwing his head back as Dean continued to rub against him with smooth rotations of his hips. Even from afar he could detect the glassy stare of Castiel's lust-clouded eyes, how heavy his lids were, as if he had difficulties keeping them open. Compassion grasped Dean's heart when Castiel placed his hand on his own sweaty forehead and whimpered quietly – he seemed so far gone, so overmastered by his lust... Dean gulped heavily the moment he felt Castiel's hips move upwards against his. The thick outline of his hard-on brushed against Dean's, the thin texture of their boxer shorts was the only barrier between them. Dean's stomach did violent somersaults as he leaned down and bit into Castiel's throat teasingly.

His hands were consuming the lean, muscular body underneath him, Dean couldn't keep his hands still. Impatiently, he pushed up the T-shirt veiling the lovely torso, his lips kissed the warm skin, worshiped every centimeter he could taste. A moment of clarity seized them when Castiel sat up a little and removed his shirt before his shaking fingers tugged gruffly at Dean's as well, and pulled it over his head. Dean marveled at the heaving chest in front of him, how Castiel rested his weight on his elbows and gave him that gut-wrenching, yearning look that made everything in this world irrelevant. The other shifted, so that he could entwine Dean's pelvis with his legs, he crossed them behind Dean's ass and dragged him down consciously. They were both panting for breath when their erect crotches moved together – Castiel uplifted his hips every time Dean thrust down against him. Dean watched his eyes roll into the back of his head, while throaty moans fled from his trembling mouth. He tried to catch these moans with his lips as he kissed Castiel again and again, losing himself in the pliant, soft mouth.

Soon Castiel squirmed underneath Dean, ragged breaths filled the air. He was so respondent to every one of Dean's caresses... how he writhed when Dean left wet trails on his jawline with his tongue, how he contorted his body, tormented with lust, when Dean let his hot breath waver into Castiel's ear for a while... It felt right to expel Castiel's pants carefully, but Dean's heart pounded brutally against his chest nevertheless – nervousness flowed through him from head to toe as Castiel shuddered expectantly beneath him. His intuition brought his hand around Castiel's leaking hard-on; he encircled it with a tentative fist, watching the reactions changing on Castiel's sensual face. Dean felt like he couldn't breathe, his dick twitching restlessly, he was all fidgety. Castiel's eyes penetrated his with such certainty as he began jerking him off resolutely, albeit languidly. He wanted this to last...

A wayward hand of Castiel's made its way towards Dean, and crawled slowly underneath the waistband of his borrowed boxer shorts while they kept gazing at each other. Dean stilled in his movements abruptly once Castiel grasped his hard, erect cock and engulfed it in a tight, unyielding fist. A suffocated gasp escaped Dean and he had no choice but to become completely rigid while he kept swelling in Castiel's grip. His own hand stopped pursuing its action as he studied Castiel's lust-blown eyes utterly overwhelmed, he was plainly choked with emotions. Castiel looked so beautiful, so willing and devoted... Dean was trembling in his lover's warm, sweaty hand. He was hypersensitive to every of Castiel's caresses... How his thumb brushed over his head, which was already bedraggled with slippery streams of hot precome. How his slender forefinger and middle finger stroked his length with delicate pressure. Without his consent Dean's lids fell shut and he bit down on his bottom lip, savoring the exciting feeling. His hips moved forward by themselves and he thrust into Castiel's adept working hand, hypnotized by the mind-blowing, sensual sensation coming to life in his abdomen like electric sparks. When Castiel shifted a little and left sweet, idle kisses on Dean's exposed throat, he sighed and became a bit clearer. He opened his eyes and tried to smile at Castiel, however he could not as he began stroking him again with quick, vehement jerks – Castiel's reactions were mesmerizing, left Dean speechless.

He was sighing, moaning and trembling, all due to Dean's ministrations. Dean wanted to feel more of him; the position they were currently in became swiftly uncomfortable. He sat up and was delighted to see Castiel understood his intentions wordlessly, as he followed him and lowered himself on Dean's lap, a silent agreement lingered between them. Dean let his hands glide down Castiel's panting torso while he regarded his face, ardent delight streamed through his system. Castiel's features were sweaty, and his hair was disheveled. With closed eyes he dared to let one of his palms stroke Dean's clothed erection desirously. He pressed his pelvis against Dean's and bit down on his lower lip as a quiet moan escaped him – simultaneously he seized Dean's cock and massaged it through the thin texture of the boxer shorts. From there on Dean was nothing but a boneless, squeamish creature of lust. He buckled his hips while his hands kept roaming Castiel's body, finding weak spot after weak spot. Somehow it seemed to him that his fingers were striking roots on his lover, that he embedded himself in Castiel's body. His touches claimed the skin and flesh and the being underneath, and with every caress Castiel became his willingly. He dug himself in deep, and he had no intentions about ever leaving this place again.

Dean thought he could smell Castiel's beguiling pheromones as he jerked him off again. It smelt of sex and passion as they rutted against one another, absolutely dissolved being on heat. Castiel leaned forward and pressed his lips together with Dean's, kissing him breathlessly and thoroughly. Their tongues danced with one another sensually slow while their hands kept working on each other's breakdown eagerly. Dean could feel it in his every nerve, his synapses dilated. He spasmed into Castiel's hand, then he became motionless at once. If he didn't restrain himself, all of this would be over too soon. Castiel's wet, soft lips glided over his, Dean felt his hot breath ghosting over his cheeks.

"Don't stop... please... don't ever stop," Castiel whimpered huskily against his mouth, and Dean felt another splash of heated pleasure rip him open. He felt so high from Castiel, his head was spinning... His fingers clenched Castiel's hips and pulled them flush against his own. His heart hammered brutally in his chest when their cocks touched. With a sudden determination he hauled down his boxer shorts and encompassed both Castiel's and his erection with one hand, stroking and massaging them in unison. It gained him a high-pitched, tortured moan, then Castiel shivered against him and squeaked desperately whenever Dean's grasp came towards the base of his length. His lover fisted his short hair aggressively, seeking for something to hold on to while Dean made them come undone. It was very strenuous to open his eyes, but as soon as Dean did so, he saw Castiel observing him with a fiery glance. His face was merely centimeters apart from Dean's, his pupils were fully blown and dark with sexual appetite. His exhales were uneven, moist and hot, as they fanned against Dean's mouth.

"I don't want this to end," Dean confessed with a hoarse voice, groaning when Castiel tugged at his hair roughly. Once more Castiel stiffened and became even harder in Dean's hand. Dean looked down as he kept jerking them off. Their precome was mingling, their heated skin slid lewdly together, created a wonderfully sweet friction. He watched the fine protruding sinew on Castiel's purple, rock-hard dick pulsate vigorously as he kept stroking him with forceful up and down movements, spreading their precome on their erections generously. God, he would never forget this sight... Whole-body shudders overwhelmed him; he felt the first waves of his orgasm creeping up on him. Black dots appeared in his vision, and he thought he couldn't breathe properly any longer.

His throat contained solely loud moans. He couldn't help but tense up over and over again, it felt like white flashes and severe monsoons inside of him were breaking him apart. He was lost in the moment, and when he managed to uplift his gaze to watch Castiel barely holding it together, something in Dean's brain snapped. He was so transfixed at the mere sight of Castiel reaching his orgasm slowly but surely, how his whole chest flushed, how he quavered and whimpered agitatedly. Each cell of Dean's brain commanded him to wank them off faster, harder, and to enjoy the look of sweet desperation veiling Castiel's features. It was obvious he needed to come but that he held back, for whatever reason. Suddenly Castiel opened his eyes and regarded Dean with a fond smile, and that was the moment when Dean understood what Castiel's attempt of composure had been about – an irresistible, little smile graced his kiss-swollen lips as he saw Dean coming any second now, the tight grip of his fingers in Dean's hair intensified and he pulled him closer. Their foreheads rested against one another – Dean felt the first immense convulsions coursing through Castiel's body, tuned to his as they moved together simultaneously. Castiel had wanted them to come together, and now that it was happening, Dean felt utterly overmastered with emotions.

A gut-wrenching, startled moan left Castiel's mouth and he stiffened in Dean's lap. Dean felt him squirt hot streams of come into his palm – the warm liquid splashed over his own erection, and it seemed so filthy and sexy to Dean that it drove him over the edge easily. He sought for Castiel's slightly parted lips and kissed him passionately as he came as well, crying into his lover's mouth helplessly. Castiel's thighs cramped around his and squeezed him repeatedly as they abandoned themselves to the ecstasy washing through them. While they were on cloud nine and listened to their combined ragged breaths and moans of relief with closed eyes, Dean had a certain feeling, which bloomed in his heart brightly. Castiel's hands in his hair, their touching, unmoving lips, how they trembled against each other... It made Dean feel exposed and raw, like there was no way he could conceal himself from Castiel. He was presented to him with every flaw and virtue he was made of, and Castiel accepted him despite it all. Dean pressed his forehead firmer against Castiel's and sighed against his soft, tender lips. When they came down it seemed to Dean that their physical act had somehow transformed into something more precious, something more important.

For a few timeless moments, he cradled Castiel in his arms and held him close to his chest. Castiel's arms were around Dean's back, his face buried in Dean's crook of the neck. Thunderous heartbeats smashed Dean, he felt weak and limp as he sank further into the comfortable couch. Though their come was drying and getting disgustingly cold, Dean didn't want to let go – but eventually Castiel withdrew slightly and gave Dean a beaming smile. He appeared gloriously satisfied and calm, as unmasked and undisguised as Dean. This Castiel conveyed no pain or loneliness, this Castiel was at peace with himself and apparently blessedly happy to share intimate togetherness with Dean. Confusion came to Dean's features when Castiel bent sideways and came back with tissues. This man had a strange quality of having tissues at hand well-nigh everywhere at any time. Dean smiled gently when Castiel cleaned them up and crumpled the used tissues up. Nonchalantly he threw them on the ground and climbed down from Dean's lap. Dean couldn't resist watching his lithe movements when he put on his pants again. Castiel must have noticed Dean's prying eyes because he winked at him with a sly smirk.

Dean watched him, a little bewildered, as Castiel disappeared in the corridor, the sound of the fridge being opened reached his ears. He made use of the lonesome moment and fixed his borrowed boxer shorts quickly. Castiel reappeared with two opened bottles of ice-cold beer and the sweetest smile painted on his lips. He sat down next to Dean and handed him a bottle, which Dean accepted enthusiastically. Deep down inside of him a voice of the past scolded him that it wasn't like him to cuddle after sexual activities, but when Castiel leaned against him, it felt natural to put an arm around his shoulder and to breathe the scent of his hair in. They took sips from their bottles and remained quiet for a second, their attention rather focused on each other than on the movie. Dean sighed contentedly as the pleasant, tasty beer chilled his throat. He squeezed Castiel amicably and chinked bottles with him.

"Ah, that beer is awesome. You know my heart's desire," he wisecracked unconcerned. The next second he was downright stupefied as Castiel raised his head and met the look of his eyes with an affectionate smile. A joyous, calm mirth shone in his light blue gems, Dean felt mushy the longer they observed one another.

"Is that so?" Castiel asked softly, making Dean's skin crawl with endearment. Flabbergasted, he searched for the right words, incapable of sorting his spaced out thoughts. Castiel watched him with amused knowledge in his look, making Dean scoff eventually. That son of a bitch knew exactly how to play his cards and to drive Dean wild.

"Hey, smartypants. Spare me that laughing down glare, would you? As it is, I'm beginning to wonder what you want with me in the first place, anyhow... I mean, you've listened to my stories today, haven't you? I'm a hunter and killer after all. Doesn't sound like the perfect match, right?" he blathered thoughtlessly – glad when his questions succeeded in averting Castiel's understanding eyes for a second. Castiel drank his beer. Fascinated, Dean observed how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down whenever he gulped. With a sigh, Castiel put the bottle aside, then he took Dean's hand resolutely in his and continued to stare at him attentively, the littlest smile on his luscious mouth. Dean felt weightless as Castiel held his hand, his thumb stroked gently over Dean's, anchoring him somehow.

"Have you ever thought of the effect you have on others, Dean? In your imagination you might see yourself as an abomination because you murder evil things. But do you know how you look like to outsiders? You save people, as you saved me from that demon... To me, you're a hero, and I owe my life to you. Don't cheapen that with careless words. Huh, I bet you made a lot of women crazy, I heard most of them are into the hero-type," Castiel spoke – sincerity as well as a healthy portion of humor resonated in his voice. A terrible blush tinted Dean's cheeks; he didn't know whether he was supposed to take this compliment or to deny everything affirmatively. Did Castiel really have this opinion of him? It moved Dean deeply, elation expanded in his heart vividly. A sweet dizziness made him smile and lower his head, it felt like Castiel's eyes were burning a hole in his frenzied head, seeing behind the curtain of flesh and bones.

"Yeah, men are into that too, I recognized... Though you're the first one I have these feelings for," he mumbled shyly, not understanding himself any longer. His heart leapt into his throat once those words came out in the open. Horror hit him hard, his eyes widened in amazement. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to reveal these innermost thoughts? It was perhaps down to the fact that he wanted to flatter Castiel as well – and it was true – he had these feelings for him... He had never felt like this about a man in this way, never so desperately and demandingly... The biggest, unexpected victory his confession gained him was the honest, happy smile on Castiel's sinful lips and the mellow suaveness lingering in his eyes when they dared to regard one another again. Castiel clasped Dean's hand tighter, their fingers intertwined gently.

"You have feelings for me?" Castiel cooed, passion clearly visible in his melancholic glance. Dean smiled at the timid man – by all appearances Castiel seemed surprised about Dean's confession, as if he couldn't imagine someone falling for him so quickly. Dean squeezed Castiel's fingers compassionately and leaned forward to press a soft, innocent kiss on his lover's stubbly cheek, feeling him tense up a bit.

"I do...," Dean rasped, and Castiel tilted his head and rested his forehead against Dean's temple, melting against him with a sigh.

…

Dean didn't have many remembrances of the remaining hours of that evening; evidently, he recalled holding hands with Castiel and the other man leaning against his side all the time. He still recollected his body warmth, the structure of the skin on his fingertips as they rested against Dean's... The heat of his infatuation had a hold on Dean, and while the hours elapsed, he felt flushed with nothing but warmth and love. His mind was jittery; he could solely focus on everything Castiel did thoughtlessly... The sound of his breaths, how his soft hair brushed over Dean's shoulder with every unconscious move and tickled him. It soothed Dean's nerves and excited him at the same time. At some point, Castiel yawned heartily and turned off the TV. Castiel got up with a groan and smiled lovingly at Dean when he held out a hand for him to help him stand up too.

They walked hand in hand through the dark corridor into Castiel's bedroom, slowly due to Dean's healing leg. Dean thought it should have felt a little awkward that he was following Castiel, so composed and heedlessly, but he couldn't help feeling like he belonged here, that Castiel presence felt all kinds of homely to him. They lay down and Castiel tucked them both up with a satisfied smile on his admirable lips. The silver moonlight shone strongly that night and created subtle greyish shadows. When they shifted and lay side to side, their faces turned to one another, Dean perceived the fine shadows of Castiel's lashes falling on his pale cheeks. He looked unearthly beautiful in the shimmering moonlight, his skin resembled marble, his eyes burnt with a strange, intense radiance as they were fixed on Dean's. Blindly Dean searched for Castiel's hand and intertwined their fingers gently with each other. Underneath the warm blanket their legs were entangled with each other quite naturally. Dean smelt the comforting scent of Castiel lingering in the pillows and he smiled happily. His lids closed, fatigued with silken slumber – Castiel's thumb stroked Dean's incessantly. He felt loved and welcome, like he was in good hands.

"It's a little weird going to bed with you like that," he muttered, on the brink of drifting off to sleep. On the spur of the moment, Castiel snuggled up to him and put his arm around Dean's waist, keeping him close to his body. His closeness and the heat radiating from his body lulled Dean to sleep swiftly.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate this," Castiel whispered affectionately, stroking the bare skin of Dean's hip fondly. It was the last thing Dean sensed, then his consciousness left him and he crashed out.

…

Dean woke up to the sounds of clinking glasses and plates and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He frowned at the unfamiliar noises, then yawned heartily and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. When he felt somewhat awake, he turned his head to discover Castiel standing next to the bed, placing a tray on his nightstand carefully. It was laden with a carafe of orange juice, mugs, a pot of coffee, fruits and buns apparently, along with other fixings Dean couldn't make out. A tender feeling was stirred inside of him when Castiel looked at him with a loveable smile and a benign notion playing in his blue eyes.

"Breakfast is ready," he said with a smirk and climbed back into bed with Dean. He became painfully aware he and Castiel were still only wearing boxer shorts – his abrupt body warmth blanketing him was overwhelming and made Dean all flustered.

"Aren't you a sweetheart," he commented cheekily once Castiel handed him a mug with divine smelling coffee, their hands brushing over each other's deliberately. Castiel kissed the tip of his nose briefly and pulled away to get his own cup of coffee.

"It's called hospitality," he retorted good-humored, broadening Dean's smile as he sipped the dark liquid.

This Sunday lived up to its name to the fullest, because the sun was shining brightly, donating rich, warm light, which made its way through the windows of Castiel's bedroom. They were rather silly this morning – Dean realized that pretty soon. Castiel insisted on feeding Dean with all kinds of food, his cheeks already hurt from grinning all the time whenever he made Castiel laugh when he nibbled on his fingers and his palm instead of the grapes or pieces of bun Castiel tried to shove into his mouth. Dean in his stead noted Castiel was terribly squeamish and ticklish – somehow a drop of jam had landed on Castiel's naked chest, and when Dean had leaned in and licked it off wickedly and allowed his hands to ghost over the lean sides, Castiel suddenly shrieked and writhed underneath him desperately, giggling and yelping at the same time. This brought them to breathless tickle fights, until Castiel practically begged Dean to stop, completely out of breath. It was still a miracle to Dean that they had managed eating anything at all.

Now he lay on his back, downright relaxed and pleased. The warming sunlight caressed his skin, and the blanket had dropped down to the floor a good while ago. Castiel rested his head on his palm on his bent up elbow, and lay on his side. His fingertips stroked Dean's upper body and arms mindlessly while his eyes followed the movements of his hand attentively. Dean couldn't help but admire the subtle, sweet smile sticking to Castiel's mouth as he watched him incessantly. In his blue eyes the sunlight refracted, Dean thought he could count the hair of his lashes, they were so close. A strange tranquility remained between them where no words were needed. Castiel's cautious fingers traveled over Dean's whole upper body, glided over his arm, down to his wrist and the sensitive, thin skin of his inner arm. His entire body was already tingling with oversensitivity, it seemed that Castiel's fingers left fiery trails on his skin. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from Castiel's. So much warmth and amazement lingered in the blue gems when they studied Dean laid out next to him... It made Dean feel loved and desired in all the right ways.

His heart made a jerky flip when he concentrated on the paths Castiel's fingers formed – the displeased frown on his lover's forehead unsettled Dean a wee bit. Castiel was following the patterns countless scars had formed. He seemed obsessed with a deep mark on Dean's ribcage; his forefinger traced the dark line endlessly.

"You have a lot scars... Where does this one come from?" Castiel asked – the first words that had been uttered within ages. Dean didn't have to tilt his head to know which one Castiel meant.

"Daeva," he answered, smiling when Castiel's baffled eyes met his. He took Castiel's hand gently in his and intertwined their fingers with one another. Castiel's breathing hitched, then it stumbled and faltered for a second when Dean moved closer to him. His mouth fell sensually agape, his eyes dilated darkly...

"It's an invisible being dwelling in the darkness, usually summoned or controlled by demons. They have claws and they will rip you to pieces if you're not on your guard. Taught me to always have lighting flares with me... Light expels them," he explained, grinning at the end to lighten the situation. He didn't like the gloomy mien Castiel still wore, and stroked the back of his hand compassionately as Castiel averted his gaze and studied more scars on Dean's torso sourly.

"Do these scars appall you so much?" he couldn't restrain himself but ask what was troubling his mind. Castiel smiled suddenly and leaned down to kiss the remnants of Dean's wounds gently, eliciting surprised but welcome sighs from Dean effortlessly. These delicate, plump lips moving over his naked skin, leaving wet trails with open-mouthed kisses as Castiel began to kneel between Dean's legs... it set Dean alight with urging want and intoxicating giddiness. Soon, he was lolling on the sheets underneath his lover. Castiel bit into his abdomen teasingly while his hands framed Dean's pelvis with a firm grip.

"That's not it... You're beautiful, with or without them. They just make me realize that you put yourself in danger... that you're not invincible...," Castiel mumbled against Dean's supple abdomen, scraping his teeth over the fine line of Dean's left hip bone. Dean felt himself harden fervently, Castiel's ministrations made him flushed with tizzy. Oh how pleasing these words were... Did that mean Castiel was worried about him?

"I've been a hunter my whole life, Cas. I can take care of myself, no fear!" he bantered to disguise how deeply these words actually affected him. Castiel's tongue slid sensually slow over the area above the waistband of Dean's boxer shorts, he froze instantly while his cock reacted and hardened ferociously. He could feel the thud of his boiling blood in his length, how he throbbed almost achingly beautiful. Damn that man...

"Doesn't mean I'm not allowed to fret about you," Castiel whispered darkly – Dean became stiff the moment Castiel bent down and mouthed at his hot clothed erection hungrily. He gnawed at the rock-hard side of his length playfully, his hands moved and stroked along the inner sides of Dean's thighs. Soon Dean writhed underneath him and grabbed his shoulders for support. Castiel was going to be the death of him... He grimaced when Sam's words came back to him like a ghost's whisper, echoing shrilly in his brain. He groaned, annoyed, and contorted his face. Why now? _Fuck it out..._

"Hey, Cas... uhm.. can we talk about something?" Dean squeezed out, having troubles becoming clear. It was as good as impossible to ignore Castiel's mouth seducing him so perfectly...

"Inconvenient time," Castiel chuckled, then he continued kissing the clothed head of Dean's leaking cock, absolutely unperturbed. Dean felt his cheeks turn beet-red, what an inconvenient situation to be caught in...

"No, please listen...," he tried again, adamant to have that stupid conversation. Sam was to blame for this. He had put these bees in Dean's bonnet, and now he needed to get them out. What if Sam was right? What if this thing between him and Castiel was nothing but a lecherous pastime? It hurt Dean gruesomely to think that way, but he wanted to make sure this wasn't the foundation of his and Castiel's relationship. With a sigh and an amused smile Castiel turned away and lay down next to Dean again, regarding him with a cheerful ember in his eyes. His smile was contagious and Dean answered with one of his own, feeling his heart flutter excitedly when Castiel fondly asked, "What is it?"

"It's about some bullshit my brother had said.. and.. uhm," Dean stuttered, not knowing how to put this doubt into words. He had never been good with talking about his feelings, but he needed to get these thoughts out. He gasped for air as he gathered his courage, then he met Castiel's eyes sternly, not allowing himself or the other man to look away.

"We're not... just doing this kind of stuff on a whim, right? There's more to this than just physical pleasure, or am I wrong?"

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dunnnn what a cliffhanger, huh? x) drama, drama! A thousand thanks to the fabulous Angelphoenixwings14 who beta-read this chapter thoroughly – and who helped me a lot with punctuation rules – so cherished, hun! Also another heartfelt thanks to Faith Valconbridge, who always listens to my blathering about this story -very patiently- kudos! x)
> 
> A general info – I don't want to bitch about Sam in this story, I love him and he is Dean's cute, annoying brother who causes drama but we all love him, right? So, please don't be worried about that.
> 
> _**Please leave a review and let me know what you think**_ : 1. It motivates me to update quicker 2. Your thoughts and opinions are always highly appreciated. 3. If you want to see something happen, just write me and I see if I can include your idea!
> 
> I'm currently really busy as we all probably are because of X-mas and New Year, so I fear the next update won't be before the 25th of December. So I wish you a **Merry Christmas** , see you soon!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Everybody survived Christmas? You're still there? Good! Be aware, utter mushiness is ahead of you! I would like to express my infinite gratitude to Faith Valconbridge, who beta-read this chapter. I didn't make it too easy for her I fear hehe hehe... And thanks once more to the people who left me some words thanks a bunch :-* Oh, and just so you know, I've had racking toothache within the last two weeks, and after yesterday's root treatment it's still not that much better. Thank God for pain medication... (in other words, I need a lot of love XDD)

**Chapter 18**

For a timeless moment Dean immersed in Castiel's museful gaze darting over his face – he sought for an explaining expression in his lover's face, but it was completely void of any possible emotion. At long last, a brittle, melancholic smile appeared on Castiel's lips and he lowered his eyes somewhat abashedly. Dean was certain he saw a faint, rosy blush spreading on Castiel's cheeks gradually.

"As for my part I can only say it's not a passing whim. It's nothing I can control, but... You do things to me I haven't even dared dreaming of within the last years. And I know I've messed a few things up in my life, but you're not supposed to become one of them. You matter to me."

Timidly Castiel raised his head once more and their eyes met – Dean thought the air was thick with love, the devoted understanding between them was almost painful, it was so tangible. He took deep breaths many times, trying to breathe against the knot of joy throttling him slowly but surely. Castiel smiled endlessly, he looked simply irresistible in the sunlight. He seemed as touched and as severely affected as Dean, and he panted for air when their hands found each other blindly.

"Same here," Dean heard himself reply hoarsely – it felt like a stake had been driven into his heart torturously; a bitter-sweet sensation seized him and held him tightly when Castiel's smile became twitchy, tears seemed to well up in his eyes. Without clearing things up completely, they had just declared their love to one another with vague words... Castiel considered their intertwined hands absentmindedly, twisting his lower lip between his teeth as if he was deeply lost in his own world of thoughts.

"I don't know what your brother has said, but... would it destroy your insecurities if we stopped doing these physical things?"

Dean didn't know whether he was supposed to sulk and frown or to laugh and thank Castiel for his kind consideration. They watched one another for a few seconds, until Dean couldn't take it anymore and chuckled, face palming his heated visage. Oh my...

"That sounds like an awful, cruel proposal, Cas. I mean, have you seen yourself? How the hell am I expected to resist you?" he laughed helplessly, hearing Castiel huff a brief laugh too.

"Hey, it's you who brought up these worries, so let's erase them once and for all. I don't think it's going to be dead easy for me as well, but I'm willing to give it a try, if it makes you feel more certain about this."

When Dean dared to behold Castiel again, he thought he was simply melting as realization set in what this man was prepared to do for him. It warmed his heart and he couldn't contain the huge grin plastering his face. Man, if there was anyone in the world Dean would have liked to eavesdrop on them in this moment, it would have been Sam. That idiot would insomuch regret his rude words. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for what he was about to say; he marveled at Castiel's sweet smile and the mirthful, tender gleam dancing in his endless, blue gems.

"Alright, I think I might regret this, but... I'm in. I suggest: no longer than a week, kissing and cuddling allowed. Keep it PG-13... what do you think?"

Dean couldn't help but feel utterly embarrassed, his face was steaming with boiling blood. How ridiculous to talk about these things... He had never had had such an arrangement, there had never been a need for this. However, when it came to Castiel, he liked to prove a point. He meant more to him than just sex, and if he had to go without for a week, hell, he would survive this if necessary. He would pay Sam back. Castiel's amused sigh brought him back to earth and he had to return the sweet smirk Castiel gave him.

"Well, I agree…. However, it's a shame... it's hard to withstand these cute bow-legs," Castiel stated, looking feigned miserable; one of his hands glided along the inner side of Dean's thigh and he squirmed in surprise, giving Castiel a death glare. He shooed his hand away, trying to look intimidating as he eyeballed at him.

"Now you're just being rude," he pouted. Soon he laughed too when he heard Castiel break out in carefree laughter. That man was going to be the death of him...

…

The forenoon passed uneventfully and rapidly. There was a lot of laughter and teasing when Castiel and Dean showered together again, regarding each other with playful gleams in their eyes. In the end Dean didn't even know how many times either he or Castiel had snarled "Hands off!" in order to keep their pact intact, making up for the harsh words with sweet, idle kisses. They spent some time on Castiel's couch, watching TV, lost in thought. Castiel dozed on Dean's chest as he lay between his legs, while Dean stroked through his smooth hair gently, wearing a secret, fond smile on his mouth all the while. This day was so peaceful and precious….

Dean never wanted to leave his lover, but he began to feel like he overstepped his bounds a little. Surely, he felt welcome here and Castiel's presence calmed his mind down beyond anything comparable with... But somehow he thought it was slightly inappropriate to consume all of Castiel's time selfishly. Maybe the other needed to get some things done and he was too courteous to chuck Dean out? He assumed the weekend was something holy and untouchable for employed people, he knew it was often used to take care of things. The upshot was that Dean untangled himself from Castiel around the late afternoon, saying he should return to the clinic. He couldn't stifle his broad grin when Castiel yawned heartily and nodded subtly, stroking over his own face with his palm tiredly. He looked so adorable...

Dean packed his stuff together and dressed properly. He watched Castiel sitting on the couch and fiddling with the necklace around his throat absentmindedly, the look of his blue eyes seemed glassy and far off. Compassion squeezed Dean's heart the moment he realized Castiel was probably thinking about his demonic possession of the other day. He looked so sad and small, how he sat there totally paralyzed... Dean hobbled towards him with his crutches, and then Castiel was roused from his daydreams, he turned his head and smiled affectionately at Dean. Subconsciously Dean reached out his hand and placed it on Castiel's cheek, loving how the other softened and leaned into his light touch with closed lids, as if he was savouring this moment.

"You know you will be fine, right? They're after me, not you. I won't let them hurt you again..."

Castiel put his hand above Dean's and gave it a light squeeze, then he opened his eyes and smiled honestly at Dean. He got up and together they walked to his apartment door slowly. Dean observed Castiel running a hand through his hair and sighing agitatedly as he followed him.

"That's not it, you know? A few days ago my life was rather normal, and then everything changed within the course of a day. These weird monsters and beings I've never heard of before, you being a hunter... it all changed so fast, it still seems incredible to me."

They stopped at the door and Dean was reminded of the first evening he had been here not too long ago – again his back was facing the door and Castiel stood in front of him. Compared to their first evening here, now their inhibitions seemed rather overcome, there wasn't much room left for vague intentions. Dean smiled when the thought seeped through his mind how glad he was to have met Castiel, that he felt like he knew him already so well. Despite the short period which had passed, it appeared to Dean that he had caught a glimpse of the essence Castiel was made of, that he could see his true self.

"Do you regret your new knowledge? Would you rather be left in the dark like everybody else?"

Castiel scoffed and a kind of grim expression settled down on his face, his blue irises looked cold and adamant. He stared firmly into Dean's eyes, Dean was taken aback by the sudden shift of his demeanor.

"I wouldn't change this for all the world. It feels good to be made aware, I feel like I finally woke up... Also, I appreciate your openness towards me, that you revealed yourself to me. It means a lot to me..."

Castiel's eyes skittered restlessly over Dean's face, it seemed to Dean he saw his cheeks turn dark red. Within a heartbeat Castiel was in Dean's arms and embraced him, holding him with a firm grip. Dean melted against him, enjoying the feel of Castiel's body pressed against his, his chin pillowed on his shoulder. Once more the damn crutches hindered him from returning the hug, but he made up for it when he kissed Castiel's temple, hair and ear shell over and over again. There were warm exhales moistening the texture of his shirt as they ghosted over Dean's shoulder, a gut-wrenching, queasy lump of emotions was growing in his stomach the longer he felt Castiel so close to him. Castiel lifted his head at last and replied steadily to the look Dean gave him. Though he was blushing and though he seemed altogether flustered, Dean detected the composure and frisky dominance lingering in Castiel's gaze. Before he had a chance to act against it, Castiel had pressed his lips on Dean's fervently, kissing him so gruffly that Dean's knees almost gave way.

It was heady and it made his head spin vehemently as he responded to the untamed, passionate kisses equally. Castiel's lips were as soft and as pliant as fresh petals, their tenderness was quite a contrast to the ardent desire conveyed in his behavior. Greed and fervor made Dean's head swim when he applied pressure to these sinful lips and caressed them with his own. He heard Castiel's erratic breaths, their chopped sounds churned up intense, throbbing heat in Dean's abdomen. Abruptly he pulled back to study Castiel's lust-blown, dark blue eyes and his kiss-swollen, plump lips. A sly smirk came to this sweet mouth as they stood opposed to each other, huffing and puffing frantically.

"Now, that was uncalled for," Dean remarked somewhat jazzed. His lips still tingled and vibrated with the phantom pressure of Castiel's mind-blowing kisses. Castiel grinned sheepishly and rubbed his neck shyly.

"You didn't seem to object, though," he talked back, making Dean chuckle. He leaned forward and deposited a chaste, long-lasting kiss on Castiel's forehead, hearing him sigh high-pitched. When he finally persuaded himself to let go, he saw the most delighted, bright sparkle burning in Castiel's eyes, he smiled gently at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?" he cooed. Castiel nodded and opened the door. He seemingly wasn't able to resist and Dean hadn't enough willpower to withstand, so he allowed Castiel to kiss his cheek softly, letting his hot wet breath linger on his skin for a moment.

"See you tomorrow", Castiel quietly said. At long last Dean managed to walk away and leave Castiel for today.

…

When Dean limped along the corridors of the rehab-center towards his room, he thought he felt a change in the air. A distinct, familiar scent was perceivable, he just wasn't sure what it was. The moment he opened the door to his forsaken room, his face fell and clarity took over his mind. This scent was familiar, without doubt. There on his bed sat Sam Winchester himself, giving him the evil eye, his arms crossed over his chest. Dean hobbled inside and shut the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously, watching Sam scoff unamused.

"You know, a simple 'good to see you' would have been sufficient as well," the younger Winchester retorted.

Dean took a seat right next to Sam on the bed, rummaging in his jean's pocket while they eyed one another.

He handed Sam the silver knife and took the bottle of holy water his brother handed him in return. Sam cut his forearm with a hiss, Dean let the water run over his arm unperturbed. They swapped the items and repeated the process.

"I have rock salt underneath my bed, but I think it's enough for now, right? I believe it's you," Dean clarified.

"That's pretty dumb of you, but alright."

Dean gave Sam a scrutinizing look, considering him from head to toe – he realized Sam was doing the same thing; they were making sure the other wasn't hurt and in a healthy condition. Finally, Sam engulfed Dean in a bone-crushing hug, to which Dean replied with a grin, leaning against his skyscraper of a brother. They pulled back and Sam let himself lean back against the wall next to the bed, sighing relieved.

"So, Sammy – what brings you to town? You're not worried about the shenanigans Castiel and I are up to?"

Though Dean was glad to see his brother in the flesh again, he didn't like the nasty look Sam gave him after he had said these words. It unsettled him more than he would have liked to admit...

"Though that is an issue we need to talk about sooner or later, I came here because of job-related occurrences. I gathered all the information I could get my hands on within the last days. What do you think: which town in a two hundred miles radius has the most weather-related abnormalities? Electric storms in the neighboring city, hailstorms a few miles away from here... not to mention the temperature fluctuations and Castiel's possession..."

"Alright, smart ass, get to the point!" Dean blurted out. Patience had never been one of his virtues. Sam regarded him for a pensive, lengthy moment, then he looked away again.

"I thought to myself – why continue this solo trip and hunt for demons for answers, when they're all obviously assembling here? This town is the center of their attention, and if it's true what the demon told you, that you are standing in the way to me, well... then I need to protect you."

"Well, that's really a moving story, very comforting. Shall we arrange a folding cot for you?" Dean snarled in his usual sarcastic manner. Immediately he felt a frown appear on his forehead – why was he always like that? Around Castiel he was so changed, practically hand-tame – but around anyone else he was basically unkind and blunt. Sam gave him his annoyed bitch-face and groaned exaggerated, rolling his eyes.

"No, Dean. I will stay in the nearest motel, close by here. I will watch the signs and be on high alert, and if anything happens, you will call me and I'll be there. You can continue your therapy and I continue our job. By the way, you look really fit. That lifestyle must have restored the debris of your health," Sam noted and poked Dean's thigh. Dean shooed his hand away with a not so clever grunt.

"I don't think I have much of a choice, but I don't like you nosing around. Kind of makes me edgy. You know, I can look after myself quite well, yeah?"

All the while the thought hovered above Dean's head, that the longer Sam stuck around, the sooner he would see Dean and Castiel interact – since he wasn't exactly positive about Sam giving his blessings to them, what was the point of rubbing Sam's nose in it? Dean met Sam's starring, relentless look with a frown, and Sam shook his head subtly and let out an aggrieved sigh.

"You can't run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, Dean. In the end, you couldn't prevent Castiel's possession, so I can't help thinking you're a little absent-minded lately. Had you had your focus on the right, important things, none of this would have happened. You might have seen the signs of a demon announcement and could have stopped this. So, forgive me that I'm a little worried about you."

Dean was so shocked and angry after hearing that accusation, he didn't even know where to start to vent his spleen on Sam. How could he dare say that to him? The could-have-been-discussion wasn't getting them anywhere now, except straight into an awful quarrel with each other. Not quite the way Dean had imagined their reunion. Sam must have confused his stunned silence with the compunction he wanted Dean to feel – he obviously didn't see Dean clench his jaw and form a fist, fuming with rage inwardly. Sam wasn't aware enough of Dean's physical reactions to realize he had gone too far, so he didn't stop his rant unfortunately.

"Look, I get you're kind of involved with him; but how can you care about this more than the job? Would you so easily swap the life you knew for 27 years for someone you met only three weeks ago? Does he mean more to you than dad or me? You owe dad that much to at least avenge his death!" Sam argued, switching back and forth between a sympathetic voice and an embittered one. The last sentence let Dean explode with wrath and he gave Sam an unfriendly, lethal look, almost trembling with fury.

"Oh, look who's talking! It's bizarre, don't you think, hearing that from you? You had no qualms leaving me and dad behind when you ran off to Stanford so carelessly!" Dean spat, though he knew he should better restrain himself, since he was the older brother. He was supposed to be wiser and not let his emotions get to him so immaturely. Stanford had left a gaping wound inside of him, but this pain was almost forgotten – he really didn't want to bear grudges against Sam for the rest of his life. As it was, their lives were apparently short-dated already, they didn't need to complicate things and make them worse because of hurt pride and bygone fights.

Something seemed to break in Sam's eyes, their expression became dull and glassy at the same time. Within the length of a second, Sam's face fell, despite his size he looked terribly small and defeated as his shoulders slumped down and as he averted his gaze. Instantly Dean felt regret about his unkind words, he hadn't meant to upset Sam for things he had forgiven him a long time ago. Gently Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder and sighed. He needed to fix this, Sam and he were all they had. Also, he had never liked seeing Sam like this – in all those years, Dean had always cheered him up and had taken care of him. That was what big brothers were there for, right?

"Look, Sam... I won't quit the job and I won't let go of this life or you either. We're the only family we've got left... so don't you dare thinking I would simply throw that away, okay?" he reconciled carefully, examining Sam's sulky features closely. He smiled when a fond smile tugged at his younger brother's mouth. Dean could practically sense the tension leave his body, how Sam became calmer with each breath. Sam finally raised his head and beamed a smile at him, his eyes now free of agony. The awkward, intimate moment ended when Sam nudged Dean's shoulder amicably.

"So? How is he? Tell me about Doctor Cas," he joked, though Dean thought he saw unbridled curiosity twinkle in Sam's eyes. Dean suppressed the urge to grin proudly when he searched for words to describe Castiel, nothing short of embarrassingly infatuated. He could understand Sam's eagerness to get some information about Castiel, because the occasions were as good as non-existent that someone like Dean Winchester had something more than a one-night stand. Hell, Dean knew quite well that he had barely had a few affairs; and that thing with Cassie two years ago... Alright, that had been something more serious, and it hadn't ended well. A cold shiver ran down Dean's spine at the mere thought and he made sure to quickly shove these memories aside.

"He's not a doctor, he's a physiotherapist," Dean corrected Sam in a know-it-all manner, nudging Sam's shoulder back briskly. Sam laughed briefly, then he leaned backwards and lay down on Dean's bed while Dean sat next to him. He watched Sam getting comfortable, granting him the lovely mattress for a few

minutes, as he knew Sam must have only slept on disgusting, inconvenient motel beds recently. Dean took a deep breath and let his eyes skitter through the room, attempting to calm himself and to avoid romantic, sappy descriptions, that would make them both cringe with uneasiness.

"What do you want to hear? Uhm... both his parents are dead as well, he lives alone, he knows an awful lot of poems... He carves wooden figures, he does this weird wing chicken thingy... No, wait, it's called Wing Chun, Cas taught me that term," Dean jabbered mindlessly.

Soon he was talking more freely about Castiel, spacing out mentally due to vivid images of Castiel dancing over his retina. He was certain he mentioned a few things which were pretty cringe-making after all, but he just couldn't help himself, and Sam wasn't stopping him either. It felt so good to talk about it with someone, to share these turbulences of emotions rioting inside of him. Though he often behaved like a macho and as if he hated nothing more than touchy-feely talk, sometimes it was necessary to let out all these things preoccupying his mind. He could sense the tender smile coming to his lips as he praised Castiel's cooking skills, or how well he could massage him... Things were starting to become less innocent as he told Sam with a chuckle about that one time Castiel had smuggled some pie into the rehab-center for Dean, and Sam terminated Dean's sentimental, smutty stories with a, "Woah, too much information, dude!".

They both laughed lightly, and Dean felt downright happy when he saw the wide grin plastered to Sam's face. Sam's cheerful features made Dean comprehend Sam was glad for him despite it all, the realization took a load off Dean's mind. It was a nice, welcome moment the brothers shared as they regarded one another for a while as the silence lingered on between them. Dean knew he had revealed a lot of himself to Sam within the last minutes, and it delighted him beyond imagination to see nothing but approval and sympathy in his face. Talking about his feelings brought Dean always out of his usual comfort zone...

"What are you going to tell him? You'll be released in two weeks eventually, and I assume we'll be on the road again..." Sam noted warily, scrutinizing Dean attentively. Melancholy traveled fast within Dean, spread like a nasty wildfire, which consumed him mercilessly. It still seemed like a nightmare to him, like an unimaginable hallucination, that he was supposed to leave Castiel and this town so soon. He knew it was for the better, for all of them, but his heart simply refused to accept this state of affairs. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his lids for a second. How harsh of fate to hand him Castiel on a silver platter, only to send Dean into the grime again, forever looking back at him...

"I don't know," he admitted sadly. "Hope I'll figure it out until then..."

His wish to never leave Castiel in general didn't come over his lips, he knew it was healthier to keep this to himself. The woozy thought crossed Dean's mind, that, if Castiel was a town, he would never trespass its limits and stay exactly where he was, right in the middle of this fortress.

…

Sam and Dean fell easily back into their usual pattern once the tension of their almost-fight ebbed gradually away. They informed each other about the events of the last weeks in which they hadn't seen the other Winchester. Sam told Dean about a hot chick named Sydney he had gotten to know thanks to a disgusting Rugaru-case. Unfortunately her boss had begun to transform into this man-eating creature and she caught him literally scarfing her colleague, and that was where Sam had made his appearance and saved the day with a flame thrower. Dean felt amazed when Sam mumbled that they had gotten down to business in the not so chaste way the same night, and Dean couldn't help but whistle appreciatively. Sam seemed utterly embarrassed when Dean shoved him teasingly and called him a stallion.

"What, now that I'm involved with a man you become a womanizer? Guess that's just because I'm currently unavailable for the ladies," Dean taunted with a grin, enhancing the blush on Sam's cheeks. Other than cheering Sam up, making him feel awkward was one of the most welcome amusements Dean had grown fond of. Though that made him probably a mean jackass...

For a while they played poker and talked lightly – though Dean was itching to show Sam the awesomeness of the common room and all the foosball tables it harbored, he rather wanted to stay in his room and have Sam all to himself for a few hours. He had missed his company, it felt homely to have him back. His usual flowery odor filled the room and comforted Dean more than he would have thought in the first place. That a nervous tension had gotten a hold of him within the last weeks only occurred to him when he perceived it parting from his body. Suddenly it was easier to breathe, a weight had been lifted from his mind. Sam was here, Sam was safe. Though their overall situation didn't look exactly peachy, Dean was glad to be able to have an unerring eye for his younger brother once more. Of course a part of that disconcerting tension remained, because Castiel wasn't at Dean's side twenty-four-seven, but he hoped, together with Sam, they would eventually get the hang of this...

Sam left in the evening, giving Dean a handful of bifi rolls, which excited Dean against all sanity. Officially he still hadn't returned to the rehab-center, so it wouldn't make sense if he bothered and walked to the canteen unannounced, demanding food randomly. Also, the greasy sausages in a pastry case were a direly needed change to the steamed vegetables and other low calorie dishes they served him here every day... He promised to call Sam in the course of the next day, probably around noon, then he was left alone again. It pleased him to lay in his bed and read one of his favorite, tattered books as he stuffed his face with the bifi rolls with relish. Outside the night approached and darkened the sky, while the orange light of his bedside lamp illuminated Dean's stern features. He didn't even know how many hours passed like this, he was totally absorbed in the world of the story he currently read.

After a while he grew tired of the complicated writing style of the author, so he lay the book aside. Automatically his hand reached out for the book Castiel had brought him the other day. He smiled tenderly and stroked the spine of the book acknowledgingly. This collection really was a treasure Dean admired and which started to grow very close to his heart. He lost himself in a few poems, rereading the verses as their meaning unfolded before him and as he identified with the expressive lines. One poem caught his attention above them all, and his mind wandered easily off to Castiel and the feelings he had for him as he read it over and over again.

" _I am not sorry for my soul / But oh, my body that must go / Back to a little drift of dust /_

_Without the joy it longed to know_ _._ _"_

It touched a sore point inside of Dean and he smiled brittly as hot tears welled in his eyes. He pressed his tongue against his front row of teeth, suppressing the urge to cry uncontrollably. Angrily he brushed the liquid out of the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand, shutting the book with more force than necessary. He turned off the light and lay down properly, trying to ease his troubled mind with narcotizing sleep. The words still hammered within his head, didn't let go of him. He yearned for Castiel so dearly, he yearned for a possible romantic relationship with him, though he knew he couldn't have it. Bitterly he allowed the tears to roam freely and to escape his eyes, unable to hold them back any longer, as he snuggled deeper into the pillow. The poem had stirred an anxiety he had suppressed many years ago: That he would die without having experienced what it was like to truly love and to be loved without any restraints.

_But oh, my body must go..._

_Without the joy it longed to know_

**TBC**

So, Sam is back in town! What do you think? If you want to send me aspirins, let me know! *holds her cheek with a grimace and waves at you* Oh, and before I forget it, the poem recited in this chapter is called "longing", it's written by Sara Teasdale!!


	19. Chapter 19

Happy New Year! Omg, people, calm down! The onslaught of reviews for the last chapter overwhelmed me! *sarcasm* Thanks to the one and only Dragonfli who made an effort to leave me a review hooray ;) I'd be super-happy if anyone is still reading this story. Anyone out there? Am I talking to myself? Well, then that would be a lengthy conversation, phew! ^^" Apart from that, see below for author's notes, darlings! Oh, and a warning: This chapter isn't beta-read, but I proofread it thoroughly.

**Chapter 19 (aka beginning of 'the week without')**

**\- Monday -**

Even though Dean wasn't exactly employed, he had a natural aversion to Mondays like everybody else who had to go to work constantly. To him, they always implied the beginning of another week with unknown events and possible fatalities, so he rather stuck to lazy Sundays with the good feeling the week was done with and all uncertainties were overcome. He tried to persuade himself that his and Castiel's arrangement had nothing to do with the queasy sensation spreading in his stomach, that he simply felt a little unwell due to the start of another calendar week. During breakfast he was impossibly silent; he had no real appetite and ate his muesli listlessly, dwelling on his complex thoughts. Why was he even so bothered? After all _he_ himself had brought up his concerns, fueled by Sam's chiding tirade! And Castiel had been so generous and had made him this cute, sincere offer...

Dean assumed he just feared he had nothing to give except for physical pleasure. What if Castiel found him annoying or boring, as dull as Dean sometimes thought of himself? It wouldn't take long and Castiel would understand Dean was not the right match for him, that he could do better... Dean's chest tightened vehemently at this thought. The vision of Castiel together with another person just split up his heart and left aching cracks in it. He wanted him, utterly selfishly and without rhyme or reason. It was not the greed of a spoiled child that couldn't contain its desires for unimportant trifles. What Dean felt was an almost hurting, devoted passion of a grown man that was beyond descriptions. It was a strong emotion which dominated him totally, unforgivingly, and he knew he would lose his mind if he couldn't have Castiel. It was desperate and beautiful, it excited him and made him melancholic at the same time. No, this wasn't a strange quirk nor a passing ferventness... But what to do with these feelings? How to handle them and convince Castiel of his wholeheartedness?

When Castiel picked him up in his room an hour later, Dean's gloomy train of thoughts was promptly forgotten. He was too mesmerized by Castiel's appearance this morning. He wore the light blue uniform which suited him so well. Again, his hair was combed to a stern side parting. His skin looked rosy and fresh, in his lucid eyes a calm mirth brimmed. Dean sat up on his bed and observed Castiel approaching him with swinging steps. Castiel smiled brightly at Dean when he stopped in front of him and leaned down so that their faces were level to level. A surge of Castiel's beguiling scent wafted through the air and entered Dean's nostrils. His heart fluttered and his lungs drank in the sweet, however masculine smell thirstily. Dean thought he could almost feel it expand in his insides, how it seeped through every vein, muscle and bone. Castiel's face hovered in front of Dean's, his eyes scanned Dean's curiously.

Dean saw something changing gradually in Castiel's irises, the other man frowned a little – Dean thought he had come to know by now that this was Castiel's expression for pained sensuality and longing. The furrowed brow, the exasperated look in his eyes... He watched how Castiel's face came closer and how the other shut his lids oh so slowly. Dean knew what was coming, and yet he was surprised to feel Castiel's dry, warm lips pressing against his shyly, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. His head was swimming. His heart missed a beat. Castiel's unsteady exhales fanned against Dean's cheeks and heated them up. He could sense his own stubble scratch against Castiel's. It was a weird, however loveable friction, which made Dean ache for more intimacy. At long last he allowed himself to free-fall into the kiss. He let his eyes close too and focused solely on the sensation of Castiel's wonderful, plump lips giving in to his, as he parted them with his tongue gently. He found Castiel's answering tongue twisting around his soon as he dived into Castiel's mouth. Dizziness took over Dean as he complied to the lead Castiel was easily taking. It didn't take long and they kissed each other wildly, as if they had been starving for the other the whole night through. Neither food nor repose could supply this omnipresent want.

Castiel's hands touched Dean's jaw and cheek, kept him in place, while Castiel worked thoroughly on Dean's constant downfall. Dean couldn't restrain himself, soon he was grappling handfuls of Castiel's azure shirt with his fists and pulled him closer. Things were awfully spinning out of control. Their mouths crashed together again and again as they groped one another yearningly, seeking for comforting physicalness. The moment they succeeded in parting from each other, both huffing and puffing swiftly, Dean opened his eyes and smirked happily when he realized how ravaged Castiel looked. With his hands Dean had created wrinkles on the dapper uniform, somehow he had messed up Castiel's formerly so well organized hair. Castiel's cheeks were pink, his lips were swollen with heated blood. He looked altogether _fucked_ and Dean cherished that state of his lover. A cheeky smile formed on Castiel's kiss-wet lips and he pulled slightly away, observing Dean attentively.

"Morning... I don't want to rain on your parade, but we still have to train that leg of yours," Castiel croaked, obviously still carried away due to their untamed kisses. He rubbed his neck and averted his gaze from Dean, making Dean huff a laugh fondly. Castiel was such a sweet guy... Dean grabbed the crutches leaning against his nightstand and struggled to his feet. He got up carefully and Castiel made way for him, eying him intently.

"Tell me about it! Though I'd rather pass the time in a different way," Dean said with a boyish grin. He bit his bottom lip and regarded Castiel, aware he practically devoured him with his eyes alone. Castiel tilted his head and kissed Dean's cheek for a moment, then he let go and turned around. As they strolled out of Dean's room, Castiel faced Dean and winked at him amicably, scolding him to "behave".

…

In the afternoon, Sam dropped in with his laptop and an armful of various documents. They sat down on Dean's bed cross-legged and unfurled the reports, newspapers and maps between them. Dean contemplated them grimly, recognizing soon they all dealt with the date of their father's day of death. Sam booted his laptop with a concentrated mien, not noticing Dean's dangerous stare. Whatever Sam was up to, whatever research he wanted them to do, he better explained it to Dean right fucking now.

"Sam, what is all that crap?" he asked gruffly. Whenever it came to John's death the warning bells were ringing in Dean's head. Deep inside of him something cringed. John's name alone brought back feelings of guilt and uncertainty, paired with desperation and wrath. Sam gave him a brief side glance, then he continued typing something on his laptop, acting unfazed.

"I could not fail to recognize the alike weather patterns... those are information about the weather forecasts and the abstrusity taken place instead. I think the same thing is happening here now."

The logical conclusion hung in the air as silence spread swiftly between them. Dean felt nauseous.

His heart pounded fiercely within him, his head swam. He clenched his jaw as black despair blanketed his mind. Subconsciously he pressed the tip of his tongue against his front teeth, forcing himself not to explode and lose himself in a tantrum or a crying fit. Sam's shoulders were hunched as if he knew what was coming.

"So, you're implying there were demonic activities in the city when dad died? Come on, Sammy. Say it bluntly. Say it straight to my face. You know what this means. Dad made a deal with a demon, for Christ's sake! It's the only reason I am still alive!" he bickered, but his voice quavered embarrassingly. The first hot tear of fury escaped his right eye and bedewed his cheek. He felt numb, overpowered by the finality of these apprehensions he had carried inside of him for too long. Damn it...

Sam sighed extensively and raised his head to meet Dean's glare. Dean felt stupid for the compassionate look Sam gave him, as if he needed comfort. There was no way in the whole wide world to make this right again. He had never deserved this second chance, and due to John's deed they had lost their father once and for all. For a while they just considered each other wordlessly while Dean cried unashamed, feeling so overwhelmingly miserable... At last he tilted his head and wiped the tears away, hiccuping a little.

"Why are we comparing the weather patterns then? It's not like this will make things undone..." he asked faintly. Abdominal pain joined the growing headache Dean had, added fuel to the emotional wound.

"I thought we might find a possibility to see the early indications pointing to demonic appearances. If we recognize a constant signal with all the info we have... we could create a paradigm we can work with in the future. We could predict the knocking on the door before it actually happens!"

All at once Dean was all ears, oppressing his emotional life for a second. Exploring new avenues to ward off evil were always exciting to him. He had come upon many ways in his life to make the hunt easier or safer: like the one time had built his own EMF machine with an old walkman, or when he had been an elementary school child crafting his own double-barreled rifle... The hunch of a smile came to Sam's lips when he regarded Dean, obviously comprehending the nature of his attentiveness.

"Uhm... see if you can discover similarities with our case and the other. Temperature fluctuations, monthly rainfall, whatsoever..." Sam suggested, then he buried himself in his laptop again, researching in his way. Dean set himself to work, forgetting everything around him except for the task at hand.

…

They had tried to suss it all out in that afternoon until they both got persistent headaches. Their investigation was merely interrupted by the late afternoon training session Dean had to work his way through. After that strenuous hour he had returned to his room to pick up where he had left off, Sam was still brooding over the situation, staring focused on his laptop. When evening came they still hadn't found enough evidence to predict the surface of a demon one-hundred per cent. They understood they had to gather more information, and Sam promised to come back tomorrow with more reports of reliable sources. There were some resemblances when it came to temperature fluctuations, the strength of the wind and the oxygen content in the immediate vicinity. But those results weren't that highly convincing – they needed more data to make comparisons. As much as Dean was glad to have his brother back and to have a lead to pursue, he was entirely relieved to take his mind off these grave matters for a while – after all, he had a date with Castiel tonight.

Sam didn't say anything when Dean confessed he would spend a few hours in Castiel's apartment, he just made Dean promise to call him as soon as he would be back. They agreed Sam should be alarmed if Dean hadn't called him until midnight, then he would know something was wrong. Dean was somewhat averse to babysitter-Sam, but he knew it would be unreasonable to argue with him about this issue. By the looks of it, he still wasn't at his best, although he was healing and improving day to day. Despite his displeasure to be protected by his younger brother, it also created a feeling of safety in Dean's chest, tightened it with a tender sentiment.

He limped at a smart pace through the park, which was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. He breathed in the warmth lingering in the air, a spicy yet flowery smell was perceptible. The taste of the vegetable stir-fry of today's dinner still stuck to his palate, it made him smile affectionately as memories penetrated his mind.

_He and Castiel lay side by side on the mats in his office, breathing labored. They had accomplished another workout session, Dean was downright finished. His right leg trembled intensely, though he felt the strength of life running through each fiber of his body. He felt relaxed and exhausted, but in a good way. Castiel held his left hand in his as they rested on their backs, filling their lungs with much desired air. His thumb brushed over the back of Dean's hand in small circles, Dean's fingers twitched and tingled with omnipresent pleasure, sensitive to every move of Castiel's thumb. He turned his head and caught Castiel's light blue eyes regarding him keenly. A smile expanded on Castiel's soft, plump lips, the idea of bliss was visible in his irises. Dean's head was swimming, he thought he was blushing. He was head over heels in love with the other man, his heart hummed with sweet joy._

" _Do you want to come over tonight after dinner?" Castiel asked huskily, squeezing Dean's hand gently. Dean laughed lightly and returned the pressure playfully, fiddling with Castiel's slender fingers absentmindedly._

" _What, does that mean I'm back to the healthy food? You won't cook for me?" he protested feigned hurt. Castiel laughed when Dean pouted childishly, pursing his lips sillily._

" _Damn right, young man! You still need to heal, and wholesome food is better for you!" Castiel berated, though Dean could see the laughter lines forming around Castiel's outer corners of the eyes. He scoffed._

" _I don't think I'm to be considered as a young man. In fact, I'm a fully grown man, far apart from being a boy. And I bet I'm older than you," Dean mocked, narrowing his eyes threateningly – but it just made Castiel laugh harder._

" _Yeah, right... Says who? I could be thirty-five and you never know. Maybe I had some nipping and tucking? Maybe I'm using anti-wrinkle crème, and before you know it you're making out with a tottery old man," Castiel argued obstinately, whereupon Dean couldn't help but grin buoyantly. For a moment he didn't know which one of them was being more ridiculous. He blamed the lightness of being overly infatuated to act so ludically. He sobered up a little and turned around on his side to study Castiel's features attentively, loving the fond smile gracing Castiel's lips as he observed Dean in his stead silently and turned around as well._

" _You can't be older than...hm... let me guess..." he mumbled, his eyes never leaving the dark-haired man's._

" _Twenty-six, Dean. I'm twenty-six," Castiel revealed quietly, smiling when Dean moved closer and wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist. Dean gave the other body a tug and pressed the length of his legs and lower abdomen flush against Castiel's. Delighted, he watched Castiel's eyes darken, how his lips parted sensually slowly. He could breathe his exhales in, they were suddenly so close. Castiel's eyes darted restlessly over Dean's face. He breathed fitfully, his eyes were half-closed. Dean let his forehead fall against Castiel's, he felt the smile on his own mouth broaden automatically. He could almost feel the fine texture of Castiel's mellow lips moving against his, his exhales stumbled in his chest. Together they shared the laughableness of deoxygenated, moist air – the atmosphere heated up instantly, was filled with crackling sparks._

" _That's good, I'm twenty-seven. And because I'm the older, I'm always right," Dean whispered confidently, brushing his lips as feathery as butterfly's wing across Castiel's. An exquisite shudder ran through Castiel's body, Dean sensed the excited tension in his every limb. Blindly he repeated the process and let his lips glide over Castiel's innocently, feeling him stiffen into their halfhearted kiss. Dean's heart fluttered hysterically against his ribs, leapt into his throat and screamed at him to ravage this sweet mouth at last. Castiel pulled slightly away, Dean could hear him smile._

" _Is that so?" he bantered friendly, Dean scoffed amused._

" _Yes. And because I'm always right, I think we should kiss now," Dean rasped – before he could act on his suggestion, he felt Castiel's lips kissing him hard and unyielding. He melted like butter against him and responded to the feverish kiss equally. Castiel's hands were encompassing his cheeks and pulled him closer; Dean tilted his head and opened his mouth to let Castiel do to him whatever he wanted..._

A sly smirk crossed Dean's mouth when he approached Castiel's apartment complex, the memory of this afternoon still vivid in his mind. His lips tingled at the phantom touch of Castiel's mouth on his... He was already looking forward to feel this gut-wrenching river of warmth running through his lower stomach, eating him up like an acid fluid. He had often heard of the expression to have butterflies in one's stomach, and now he thought he had that symptom as well. Though it felt rather like a downpour of a whole-body tingling sensation – it made his toes numb and his fingertips twitch, his head was spinning with too many released hormones... The sentiment was enhanced many times more the moment Castiel opened the door and smiled tenderly at Dean. Dean was strangled and gagged with the magnificent feelings taking over him, soon they became too much for him. He followed Castiel inside, absolutely permeated with an unspeakable glee.

…

Castiel's apartment was already plunged into the greyish twilight of the nearing night. No lights were lit in the rooms as Dean walked behind Castiel silently. A source of orange, dim light flickered through the ajar door of Castiel's bedroom, apparently that was their aim. They entered the room and Dean stopped dead in his tracks on the threshold, taking in the presented scenery. Castiel had already collapsed into his bed, his arms and legs splayed out comfortably as he lay on his back and contemplated Dean with a serene smile. The room was overloaded with countless burning candles, they were practically everywhere – on the ledge, on the racks (Dean feared for the wooden carvings inwardly), on Castiel's nightstand... Their bouncing, little flames created a cozy atmosphere. Dean felt instantly calm. Though he had to admit Castiel lying in bed so seductively confident with all those candles around... it provided Dean's brain with erotic phantasies. He also couldn't help but blush somewhat embarrassed, the whole scenery looked so ridiculously romantic...

"Wow, Cas. I never took you for the romantic type," he dead-panned, trying to play it cool. Castiel grinned self-assured and winked at Dean, patting the empty bedside next to him invitingly.

"Says the guy who's secretly into poems," Castiel countered and Dean winced in surprise.

"Touché," he replied sullenly, then he hobbled to the bed and settled himself slowly on Castiel's comfortable, broad mattress. While he sat he undid his boot (he still longed for the day when he could use the whole pair again, his injury made it impossible to wear both shoes), he felt Castiel shift behind him, possibly turning on his side. He could practically sense the prying eyes burning holes into his back with their intense gaze. The sensation of this assumption was pleasant and exciting at the same time. Dean felt the familiar heat rise in his stomach, his hair stood on end.

"So, what puts you in the mood for candlelight dates?" Dean asked chattily – Castiel's silence sometimes unsettled him. Finally he rolled over, only to be hit with dazzlement and an unexpected sight: Castiel was languidly struggling out of his jeans, doffing them off with cute, wiggling motions of his hips and calves. Subconsciously, Dean gulped, his mouth was watering at the attractive aspect of firm, well defined thighs and Castiel's small waist. His belly button was showing as his navy blue shirt slid up accidentally. When Dean managed to lay off his bad habit of undressing and devouring Castiel with his eyes alone, he caught the knowing expression dwelling in Castiel's eyes – the son of a bitch was smiling secretly at him, and damn, he looked so sexy...

"I had a rough day, I just want to relax for a while, if that's alright. Believe it or not, not all patients are as affable as you. Urgh, I could tell you endless stories about varicose veins and dead tissue and mega-horny old ladies..." Castiel grumbled.

Dean was entirely hypnotized when he watched Castiel taking off his shirt with languid, provoking motions as well, revealing his taut upper body. Did he do this on purpose? Did he know how lithe and admirable his every move was, how appealing he was? That he made Dean's whole body turn into jelly just with the way he undressed? Bewildered Dean awoke from his daydream when a warm, dampish kiss was pressed against his forehead. Too soon the soft, plump lips had left his skin. He blinked once or twice, until he recognized Castiel's fine facial structures close in front of him, studying him thoughtfully – there it was again, the gorgeous peaceful smile... Dean couldn't resist responding to it with a tender smile of his own. There was a warm hand enclosing his, placing something into his palm. With a frown he looked down, identifying a bottle of massage oil. _Orange and mixed spices._

"I think it's time for you to prove you can untwist the huge knots in my back. Otherwise you have no worth," Castiel stated nonchalantly. His serious mask baffled Dean, he felt his own mouth opening up to a startled "Ohh" - thereupon Castiel just chuckled lightly and fell flat on his tummy, utterly unperturbed by Dean's stupid reaction. Dean turned as red as a beetroot, angry with himself for falling so easily for Castiel's dumb quips. Nevertheless, he complied to Castiel's wish and opened the tube with a creaking sound of the cap. The pervasive scent was bewitching, Dean sniffed at the massage oil appreciatively, letting out a delighted hum.

"You're a damn physiotherapist. Aren't you guys supposed to be totally, I don't know, bendy and fit? Never thought you could be tensed up with this kind of job..." Dean sulked a bit.

He observed the mellow, warm light coming to rest on Castiel's lissom naked back. How it underlined the hollow decrease of his spine, how it generated soft shadows where his shoulder blades protruded... There were infinite planes of smooth skin, working muscles and supple flesh. Dean gazed in abstraction, he tried to memorize this beautiful body in front of him. He poured some of the oil into his palm absentmindedly and chafed it between his hands. Castiel buried his face in the pillows.

"You know, you can't simply _talk_ this muscle tension away," Castiel chided him impatiently, his voice sounded muffled. His plain cheekiness made Dean scoff, then chuckle heartily. He shook his head in disbelief as he crawled between Castiel's slightly spread upper thighs – there was just enough space there for Dean to kneel in a fairly convenient position. The moment Dean placed his hands on Castiel's uptight shoulders, he heard a gut-wrenching, high-pitched sigh fleeing from Castiel's mouth. He applied pressure to the strained area, kneading Castiel's flesh with wave-like rotations of his strong fingers. Castiel hummed and grunted and moaned the longer Dean kept working on him, the unfiltered, appraising sounds put a proud smile on Dean's lips. He knew he was good at this, though he had never done this to a man... He cherished how Castiel became loose due to his ministrations, how he resembled nothing but a boneless puddle of satisfaction and ease.

Gently, Dean traced the subtle coves of Castiel's ribcage, he dared to let his calloused fingers wander over the line of his vertebrae. Dean couldn't help but worship the lovely back, he alternated between ghostlike strokes of his fingertips and strong massaging practices. Especially when he moved his forefinger along the curve of Castiel's pelvis oh so carefully, he could feel the immense shivers running down Castiel's spine, how he tensed up due to his gentle touch. Dean bit down on his bottom lip, controlling himself. After all, they had made a pact to postpone adult-physical activities.

"Apart from a shitty workday... you're okay?" Dean asked quietly, hearing the odd quaver in his low voice. Castiel turned his head so that his right cheek was lying on the pillow, Dean could see the other half of his face. His smile became brittle when he regarded Castiel's slackened countenance – there was the tiniest, yet undying smile on his sinful mouth, his lids were trustfully shut.

"I'm alright. Thank you, Dean. What about you? How was your day?"

A lengthy sigh left Dean as he hesitated between telling Castiel a lie or the truth. Shreds of yelled words resounded in his head like a shrill echo. He could still feel the tears or anger and desperation he had shed today – the loss of John and the guilt he had burdened himself with... they weighed heavy on Dean's heart. It felt like concrete blocks had been glued to his feet, and he was just waiting to be pushed off the pier to drown gruesomely. Maybe it helped if he talked about it... Maybe Castiel was able to understand and appease him somehow. He needed some kind of absolution desperately.

"Not so good, to be honest... My worst apprehensions have kind of been confirmed today. And, well... I don't want to drag you down. Also, it's very personal, so... We don't have to talk about it."

For a breathtaking moment tense silence lingered between them – it was discernible in the way they breathed shakily, how Dean's hands massaging Castiel's back seemed suddenly mechanic, listless, as if he was deeply lost in thought. Castiel broke the deafening silence with much appreciated words.

"But you know you can talk to me about it, right? I'm a good listener."

Though Dean knew Castiel couldn't see it, he nodded discreetly. It seemed to him he was convincing himself to open up to Castiel and unload the burden he was carrying. He continued caressing Castiel's back, losing himself in detailed fondlings and the quiet sighs and moans Castiel made as the minutes elapsed. As time passed on, Dean thought he would burst with nervousness – inside of him, the solution had formed that he wanted to talk with Castiel, he just had to gather the remnants of his courage to do so. He harrumphed and stopped massaging his lover – instead, he contented himself with stroking the length of his back cautiously.

"What would you do if you knew someone sacrificed their life for you? When someone took the bullet for you? Wouldn't you feel guilty because you know the roles should have been reversed...? That you're supposed to lie six feet under, not the other person?" he heard himself confess breathlessly.

It already took an unbearable load off his mind to put these thoughts into spoken words. Castiel remained terribly quiet for a few seconds, in which Dean could hear the hammering beats of his heart as it slammed against his chest. He gasped for breath, completely flustered. Inwardly he spoke short and hurried prayers that Castiel didn't think ill of him for revealing this part of him.

"I would be grateful that someone cared enough about me to give up their life for mine. Though I think it's natural to have compunction. You wouldn't be human if you didn't care about the other's death."

Dean's head was swimming, his eyes welled up with tears he frantically tried to hold back. He was torn in two... Castiel's statement moved him deeply, it diminished the guilt he had felt since John had died for him. He pressed the tip of his tongue against his teeth while his jaw clenched. He was angry with himself for crying again as a tear escaped his right eye boldly. He hated himself for sniffling miserably – with the shaky back of his hand he wiped over his wet face, fighting the crying fit. At the sound of his breakdown Castiel stiffened – he turned his head as much as possible and opened his eyes, beholding Dean with a scrutinizing look.

"What happened? Who gave their life for you?" he inquired plainly, nothing but sympathy and interest visible in his intense stare.

"My father," Dean fessed up, deeply ashamed. His voice was brittle and filled with the everlasting pain strangling him. The look of real pity coming to life in Castiel's eyes produced shame and despair within Dean, and he averted his eyes and tilted his head, so that his chin almost came to rest on his chest. He felt the heat of his cheeks and how small rivulets of tears made their way over his skin. He had never intended to make Castiel's day worse, there was only so much shit a person could come to terms with within twenty-four hours. He didn't want to bother him with his personal drama, so he brushed the tears briskly away and squeezed out a strained "Sorry, I didn't mean to laden you with this crap."

He was so out of it, he didn't even know what he was doing anymore when he found his body standing up without his permission. The instinct to flee from this intimate talk was so strong, it made him act plainly thoughtlessly, as if he was some marionette-like being controlled by other forces. Somehow he wanted to get away from this weird situation, but an other part of him wanted to stay and tell Castiel everything he had kept on the tip of his tongue for far too long. He stood awkwardly next to Castiel's bed, his back turned to his therapist, hesitating whether he was supposed to stay or run away, for he wanted both. He eyed the countless candles bathing the room in a romantic, lovely light and felt furious tears coming to his eyes once more. He had ruined the evening, he had ruined this date. Why hadn't he simply kept his mouth shut? Maybe it was true that he could solely give physical pleasure, he sucked when it came to talking.

As Dean remained exactly where he was in his undecidable position, he heard Castiel moving on the mattress, then the sound of his bare feet touching the laminate floor with a soft thud. Dean twitched in surprise when Castiel's arm came around his waist, pulling him with tender force closer towards him. Castiel hugged him from behind, very slowly he pressed his bare chest against Dean's back and rested his chin on Dean's left shoulder. The other man let his temple fall against Dean's, melting against him perfectly as he buried his nose in Dean's short, sandy hair.

A lengthy sigh left Dean, he thought he could breathe properly again. Castiel holding him so affectionately lifted the veil of confusion, doubts and guilt easily, relief expanded in his chest. Castiel's warm breath wavered against Dean's cheek constantly, a queasy sensation ran down his spine as he leaned back and molted in the silent embrace. Castiel smelt of the massage oil, a heady scent of oranges and something unique Dean couldn't name, but of which he knew it was solely Castiel's essence. The naked torso against his clothed back was hot and Dean found pleasure in the comforting heat enveloping him gradually.

"Tell me what happened... I am here for you," Castiel whispered, covering Dean's throat and the skin above his jugular with airy, tiny kisses. Tremors took over Dean as he savoured those precious caresses and dispersed in the tender moment. He could perceive the texture of Castiel's soft lips pressing against his skin gently, a passionate fire awoke in him as he was choked up with emotions. Castiel was comforting him efficiently, so Dean had as good as no troubles finding faith to confide in him. He nodded subtly, sensing how Castiel's fingers squeezed his waist fiercely as if he never wanted to let go. As if he appreciated Dean had decided to open up to him, despite his obvious inner turmoil.

…

With a lopsided smirk Castiel had ordered Dean to lay down again, informing him he would be back soon. Dean followed the instruction gladly, for his knees felt weak and too nervous to support his weight any longer. He listened to the sound of Castiel rummaging in the kitchen, glasses clattered suspiciously. Dean couldn't stop but smile hesitantly when Castiel returned with two glasses of whiskey, looking absolutely breath-taking as he walked through the room, only clad in the delicate light of the candles and his dark blue boxer shorts. He lowered himself beside Dean and while Dean lay on the bed with his back, Castiel sat down cross-legged, facing his lover with attentive eyes. The encouraging expression of his regard was all Dean needed to lose his inhibitions, and soon he was telling Castiel everything about his dad, while they sipped on their whiskey from time to time.

Dean tried to convey how John had been, how complicated but important their relationship had been to him. Castiel studied him with an understanding, keen look, never interrupting Dean, but nodding now and then. He really was a good listener, Dean noted. He even smiled brightly when Dean told him about all the nice things John had done for him and Sam during the years, for instance how he had given Dean the Impala, or how often he had cursed about Sam leaving for college – it had been his way of admitting he actually missed his youngest son. Dean laughed with tears in his red-swollen eyes when he remembered how angry John had been when he had overheard Dean talking to Sam on the phone – in the middle of the night he had found him with a bottle of whiskey thereupon, smiling at a photo of Sam he held in his hand, too lost in thoughts to be aware of Dean lurking around the corner.

The hardest part was to explain how he had died. Dean listened to his own shaky breaths, how brittle his voice sounded. At some point Castiel had reached out his hand to hold Dean's supportively in his, they had been holding hands for so long that a thin, however welcome layer of warm sweat was already sticking to their palms. Dean's words became erratic, almost hysteric, as he swiftly told Castiel about the events of that day and the next, how he had almost died himself. Castiel's thumb stroked Dean's knuckles endlessly, the small gesture built Dean up somehow. It seemed to him Castiel mended his wounds with the simplest ministrations – how good it felt to have someone to talk to, someone who was interested in what he was revealing. Someone who held his hand and helped him through this nerve-wracking narration...

"... and that's about it. He sacrificed his life so that I could live mine. Sam and I lost our dad,... and I'm so sorry I am the reason for this whole mess..." Dean ended, falling silent as another wave of agony and sorrow washed over him. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he felt exhausted, his throat was already hoarse. Castiel was silent for a few seconds, still holding Dean's hand as the candles burnt down bit by bit.

"Dean, uhm... did your father know you well? Were you close?" Castiel asked cautiously. Dean lifted his head and met Castiel's kind eyes, smiling confused and frowning simultaneously.

"Yeah... He and Sam know me the best."

Dean winced a little when Castiel placed his other hand on Dean's cheek and pulled him closer with some force, so that their faces were approaching. He answered to the steady, hard look Castiel gave him, not understanding the sudden shift in his demeanor.

"Then stop blaming yourself for the decision your father made. He loved you so much that he was willing to give up his life for you. I don't think he would have wanted you to despair and spend your days with guilt. He wanted you to _live,_ so enjoy the time he has given to you..."

Too overwhelmed to reply, Dean simply stared at Castiel, trying to let his words sink in. He had never thought of it like this... Before he could reply anything, he watched Castiel closing his lids, then he came impossibly near and gave Dean's cheek a light tug, bringing him closer as well. Their foreheads touched, Dean thought he was hyperventilating. He breathed fast, for he was very upset about the weird idea Castiel had placed in his head. This was all so new to him... How could he let go of the guilt he had come to know and embrace?

Castiel reacted extremely fast when he heard Dean's heaving, panicked breaths: He framed Dean's face with both his hands and pressed their foreheads harder together. It soothed Dean to a certain extent, his breaths became shallower, slower. How unlike him to fall apart so easily... Castiel's hands and his reassuring nearness were the only things that kept him in the here and now. With closed lids, he listened to Castiel's calm breaths, he concentrated on his fingers stroking his temples and massaging his scalp lovingly.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm here... Allow yourself to be happy and let go of the past. It's what's best for you," Castiel said quietly, tenderness resonating in his voice, and Dean felt like crying all over again.

**TBC**

Omg, quite an emotional chapter, huh? Soooo, I just wanted to let you know this story will roughly have 30 chapters, I'm currently trying to finish chapter 25. Am I updating all too fast? I recognized the chapters are getting longer and longer (were supposed to be 3k, now they're rather 6 to 7k). Tell me when I should wait with the updates... x) Also, your reviews motivate me to finish this story, so **please tell me what you think!** Also, a huge thanks to Angelphoenixwings14, who put my thinking in the right way by offering a wonderful structure for plots x) very awesome hun, you helped me a lot!

See you soon? =)


	20. Chapter 20

Hello darlings! Everything alright? Everyone already excited about the new SPN episode in 4 days? Don't worry, no spoilers here. Thanks !! a lot !! to all those who left a review recently or put this story to their faves / follows! Hooray!! I'm always very happy to know your thoughts. I would particularly like to thank Angelphoenixwings14 again for beta-reading this chapter so thoroughly and perfectly in time – thank you hun! My grammar has become so much better because of you T.T 

So, let's struggle through this week without … penetrative... gay... sex... well, almost without har har har.

**Chapter 20**

The hours of that evening passed with innumerable sweet kisses that burnt their way straight through Dean's heart. He found solace in the way Castiel comforted him with long hugs, how he ran a hand over his scalp time and again, how their lips found to each other with little to no repose. Overall, Dean was too fatigued and devastated to hold his affection back, so he let himself drown in the loveable, worshiping kisses Castiel gave him. It was cathartic to let someone take care of him for once, to let someone try to be the balm to his gaping wounds. He felt it in Castiel's kisses, how much he cared, when their lips glided sensually slow over each other's mouth. Dean was aware of the undying heat those ministrations created in his stomach, it was a profound flame which overpowered him perfectly. He was light-headed, and his cheeks were flushed with boiling blood, as he tilted his head and responded to every of Castiel's kisses eagerly, returning the soft pressure the other caressed him with.

Close to ten it was time for Dean to go; he had to be in the rehab-center before the night watch realized he was missing. Castiel watched him silently when Dean got dressed completely, fixing his ruffled shirt and putting his boot on with a frown. His face was so wrecked, and he practically felt each muscle hurt with oversensitivity. The mood between them was solemn, but also permeated with a level of trust and intimacy they hadn't felt before. Dean's dark secret had brought them closer together.

Castiel showed him to the door and when Dean turned around to say goodbye to him, he saw the indestructible jovialness gleaming in his beautiful, blue eyes as they beheld him. He recognized the love and sympathy Castiel had for him, so he couldn't stop himself from biting on his lower lip, feeling a soft smile coming to life on his mouth. Castiel's bright smile was shoving all of Dean's thoughts aside, he marveled at the admirable sight.

Once more, they both leaned forward, lashing into each other wildly. Dean's heart leapt into his throat when he understood the untamed frenzy Castiel felt as they snuggled up against each other, their lips moving together. Both their hands stroked the other man, slid over naked and clothed torsos, the outer lines of upper arms... It was difficult to let go of someone making him feel so good, but Dean had to get away at last. A thousand unspoken words dangled in the heated air between them as they gazed at each other, huffing and puffing, their mouths swollen and bruised from their kisses. Words like "I'm sorry" or "I understand, don't worry" - a hidden conversation was recognizable under the surface of a compassionate look. Instead of apologizing to Castiel for whatever reason, Dean decided to just say a quiet "Good night," whereupon Castiel's smile softened. He blinked reassuringly at Dean and opened the door for him.

"Sleep tight, and stop worrying," Castiel chided with a lopsided smile, making Dean huff a short laugh. He was tempted to poke his tongue out at him but winked charmingly at him instead, amused when he saw a light blush tinting the dark-haired man's cheeks. Oh my... He hobbled off and heard Castiel close the door after a moment. Dean stepped out into the chilly spring night.

Not much happened that night; Dean was blessed with an uneventful rest of the day. After he had called Sam to tell him everything was alright, he fell asleep pretty soon. He was overwhelmed with fatigue, and he knew a great deal of this tiredness derived from the level of openness he had shown Castiel today. It felt like he had been skinned alive, now he was utterly exposed to his lover. It should have scared him, for no one knew him as well as the remnants of his family, so it was like entering unknown territory to let someone else see him this way.

But somehow, Dean wasn't troubled, because he thought Castiel was looking right through him – and Dean knew how rare it was to find someone who accepted him despite it all, with all his drama and the perils that were a part of a hunter's life. Usually, he felt embarrassed after every emotional confession he had made; he didn't want to lose his face of toughness. However, when it came to Castiel, he thought he was free of that risk. Each time he had become talkative around him, he had never regretted it. Quite the contrary, it soothed him to the very core of his soul to let Castiel see who he really was, and to find nothing but acceptance and deep admiration in Castiel's caresses and the manner he looked at him. As he was on the verge of drifting off to sleep, he felt the smallest smile creeping up on his lips, glad to have met someone like Castiel.

…

**-Tuesday-**

Dean was anxious after breakfast because he feared the chemistry he and Castiel shared was somehow endangered after last night. But when Castiel picked him up for their first training session this day, Dean understood promptly nothing had changed for the worse, thankfully. Castiel still looked at him as if he was a precious wonder of the world, his fond, desiring kisses were still suffused with a heated longing that made Dean's toes tingle and his chest tighten. During their workout he was tempted to restrain his usual gush of words a bit, since he kind of thought he had presented enough already to a guy he knew for merely a month. He was incredibly alleviated the moment he recognized Castiel wasn't aware or impressed with his lack of words at all – he made up for all the personal things Dean had disclosed to him recently with telling him stories about his childhood and teenage years, that made Dean crack up and laugh heartily.

He was snickering like a schoolgirl when Castiel told him about the first girl he had taken out on a date, at the tender age of fifteen. How he always had to make up excuses where he spent his time at because he didn't want his parents to know he had a major crush on that girl – and how they eventually found him sneaking out one night after he had fallen out of his window, breaking a leg on their front porch.

"Yeah, she kind of ditched me when I had to walk around with a plaster cast for weeks. Fell for that huge badass football player, who was older and taller," Castiel admitted with a low chuckle, his eyes luminous with the memories of bygone days sweeping through his mind. Dean's cheeks hurt from grinning and laughing all the time. In addition, his body was exhausted due to the strenuous exercises they had somehow managed to finish while talking.

"Well, I wouldn't ditch you," Dean said with a smile, adoring how Castiel turned his head to him and gave him a beaming, happy smile. Blindly, their hands intertwined, Dean felt impossibly calm when Castiel's fingertips brushed over the back of his hand. His heart leapt into his throat the longer they regarded one another tenderly.

"Good to know... Hey, would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow night? In town, we have this mad restaurant in which you're not allowed to speak. It's kind of their philosophy; the owner explained to the public you should focus on the meal and the important things instead of talking without interruptions. A very down-to-earth, corpulent man. The food is pretty awesome...," Castiel said, averting his eyes shyly as a dark shadow of a blush spread on his neck and cheeks as if he was fuming with nervousness. Dean couldn't help but feel flattered, and though he was turning red as well, he hid his flustered state behind quips.

"Are you wooing me, Castiel?" he asked with a come-hither look, laughing inwardly when he saw Castiel's blush deepening as his eyes darted over his face restlessly. His mouth fell open and a smile twitched at his corner of the mouth as he replied to Dean's stare feisty.

"Is it working?" he countered and Dean grinned buoyantly.

"In other words, you're giving me the silent treatment already and disguising it as a date?" he provoked Castiel with a death glare, loving how irritated he suddenly looked. A frown appeared on his forehead and he pursed his lips in the cutest manner Dean had ever seen.

"No, I'm trying to be romantic, you ungrateful wretch!"

Dean burst into carefree laughter, watching how Castiel stifled a grin desperately, acting as if he was pouting.

"Jeez, don't be touchy! Of course I would love to go out with you! Even if we don't get to talk," he placated the other man, delighted as the huge grin spread out on Castiel's face at last.

…

Castiel had to endure his weekly staff meeting like every other Tuesday, so Dean and Sam had plenty of time to pick up where they had left off. They called various hunters they knew as well as some acquaintances of their dad, asking them a few questions about the topic of their experiences with demons. At the end of the day they had gathered enough material to determine a certain cluster that announced the presence or the manifestation of a demon walking on the earth. Dean studied their notes, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth, deeply lost in thoughts.

"There's no way we could transport a weather station or something alike in the Impala. What we need is a handy device that meters all of these things, something like an EMF detector but with more data to analyze," he mumbled half to himself, half to Sam.

"Right... So, let's see what it should show... the temperature, oxygen content, alright... electromagnetic frequencies as well, so maybe we could upgrade an EMF somehow."

Plans for soldering cables formed in Dean's head, simultaneously he estimated Sam's technical knowledge.

"Alright, I got it. Give me one EMF meter and we reconstruct it. But first of all, you gotta go buy a real good thermostat," he stated, back to the professional self he was when it came to hunting. This would be tricky but manageable.

…

**-Wednesday-**

Dean's head was very slowly recovering from the challenging task he had attended to yesterday – for hours he had put all his knowledge and skills into that little, annoying plastic box and countless wires. The result was satisfying, now Sam and he only had to test their D-EMF meter (the D stood for demon) in the field. Sam was currently looking for the earliest opportunity presenting itself to them so that they could see if that thing worked as required.

Dean, on the other hand, got ready for the date this evening. The sky outside was already darkening and Castiel would be here in a few minutes. Dean stood in his tiny room in front of a head-high mirror, fiddling with a black tie he intended to wear. He had decided for charcoal grey trousers and a bright linen shirt, which underlined the vivid green of his eyes and enhanced his slim figure nicely.

The tie however was nothing but a pain in the ass. He didn't know how many times he had adjusted it and scrutinized his looks in the mirror, but something was always wrong, seemed so out of place. With a frustrated groan he threw the tie away and undid the first buttons of his long-sleeved shirt. There! That was vastly better. The exposed part of lightly tanned skin showing underneath his chin was just enough to make him look frisky, he thought it made him look somewhat tempting, but also well-dressed at the same time. He let out a lengthy sigh and his shoulders slumped a little – he was downright unsettled, not sure what to make of the thought of him and Castiel going on a formal date like this. It had been quite a while since the last time he had done something like that. Picking up men and women in bars, yeah, he was good at that. But sitting opposite to each other in a restaurant and holding hands? That was... startling. Dean felt hot rivers of anxiety and euphoria pulsating through his body with short intervals. Strange impulses thrived within him, made him all wobbly. Somehow he desperately _ached_ for this evening, even though he knew he was stepping into the unknown. He trusted Castiel enough to not let him become uncomfortable, whatever it was they were going to do.

A thrill of gleeful anticipation made him twitch when there was a soft knock at his open door: Castiel stood there, leaning against the doorframe with a serene, affectionate smile on his pink, full lips. He beheld Dean with appreciation in his eyes, Dean felt hot and cold at the same time. He got pins and needles in his tummy when he read the desire in Castiel's face, how he more or less undressed him with his glances alone. Dean's mouth fell open when he examined Castiel's appearance as well, he looked absolutely mind-blowing. The other man wore black suit pants, which encompassed his firm thighs in a mouth-watering way; Dean's gaze traveled up the flat stomach and the well-defined chest and arms, enveloped in a baby blue button-down shirt. Castiel's eyes practically sparkled with their intense, lavender-blue shade, Dean sensed flashes of delight bounce through him.

"Hey," he rasped gently, making Castiel smile. He watched him come closer, striding through the room with a few confident, slow steps. Dean smirked seductively the moment Castiel seized him by the hips rigorously and pulled him against him so that they could feel the body heat of the other. His tangy, heady scent got to Dean's head and made his knees give way. He had no choice but to close his eyes halfway, mesmerized by the dominant, knowing expression coming to Castiel's eyes as they stood so near to each other. Dean saw him cant his head, then Castiel kissed him fervently, and Dean's balance gave way after all. He grabbed Castiel's shoulders, feeling like he was swooning, as he held on to him and let himself be held, answering to their sensual kisses hungrily. When they parted after a while, Dean thought he was downright inebriated by Castiel's skilful French kisses, his lips and tongue tickled with sweet vibrations. Castiel's lips glistened with the remnants of their kisses, making him look so damn attractive...

"Hey," he replied at last, making Dean grin. Castiel released Dean, seemingly somewhat surprised by his own vehemence, for he was blushing and averted his eyes in the shy manner Dean had gotten to know by now. Castiel chinked his keys and held them up so that Dean could see them.

"Thought we could drive to the restaurant. I want to see you without the crutches for once."

Dean inspected the car key with aroused interest, grimaced, then gave Castiel a reproachful look.

"Toyota? Are you serious? You want to arrive there safe and sound I guess?" he bitched. Castiel gave him the evil eye and shook his head slowly, narrowing his eyes threateningly.

"Hey, it gets me from A to B. It's a good car, so you shut your mouth," he retorted with a sulky undertone. Dean was tempted to maintain the friendly bantering, but he didn't like the sour mien Castiel recently wore, so he kissed him sweetly and nibbled at his bottom lip cheekily. It was a little success to hear him hum pleasantly, and how he gave in to Dean's offer of amends, returning his kisses tempestuously. Dean's head was swimming; he thought they would never reach the restaurant if they kept doing this. Castiel retreated a little so that his next words were brushing over Dean's lips in a ghostlike, tingling whisper.

"Maybe it's a good thing you won't get to talk so much today, since you only want to provoke me," he teased. Dean couldn't help but laugh lightly. He wrapped his arms around Castiel's waist and drew him in, attacking his mouth with more tender kisses while he stroked the cove above his ass carefully. Castiel melted in his arms and sighed yearningly into their kiss, becoming limp and utterly moldable in their lax embrace.

"We should go," he suggested as their lips parted for a second. Dean nodded but caught Castiel's lips once more, pressing them together briefly. Finally they managed to let the other go. Only then Dean became aware of the problem he would be facing.

"How the hell am I supposed to walk without the crutches? I mean, I find them annoying as well, alright, but..."

Castiel smiled reassuringly at him and took Dean's hands in his, squeezing them slightly and stopping his flustered tirade as well. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, Dean utterly tranquilized by the mysterious spark burning in Castiel's irises.

"You made enough progress within the last weeks, believe it or not. I think you can walk with a little limp, but it won't damage your calf. In fact, it will actually accelerate your healing. Just... make a few steps and I will help you achieve the balance. Don't worry, we have all the time in the world."

With that being said, Castiel gave Dean one last encouraging look, then he took a step backwards and dragged Dean with him, so that he had no choice but to move forward hesitantly as their hands were still entwined. The moment he dared to let his right heel touch the ground, he sensed the sheer impossibility of it and hobbled so that he came to rest on his other leg. Castiel's hands applied pressure to keep him upright and he put all his trust into those caring, understanding hands. Their eyes met after Dean had accomplished the first step, a sly smile flitted across Castiel's lips. Ever so gingerly, he withdrew his hands and watched Dean try to walk alone. It was downright exhausting and it demanded Dean's whole concentration, but he wanted to prove to himself and to Castiel that he could get the hang of this. Very slowly, they walked along the corridor, Castiel strolling beside Dean, keeping his attentive eyes on him. Dean was already out of breath when they reached the exit and he stopped for a second, giving Castiel a worried side glance.

"I'm sorry, this is taking forever."

Castiel tipped his head and kissed Dean's cheek, stroking with one hand through his hair caringly.

"It's okay, take your time."

They stepped into the clear night and started to leave the clinic behind them. Dean grunted and cursed with every step, but they came closer and closer to the parking lot, slowly but surely. When they finally reached the grey lacquered car, Dean paused at the passenger door and smiled proudly at Castiel, wiping the beads of sweat from his temple.

"Well done, you get dessert," he said with a shameless grin, then he just laughed when Dean flipped him the bird and climbed into the car.

…

A few minutes later, they stopped right in front of the restaurant to Dean's great joy, because that meant he could save some unnecessary steps. He unbuckled the seat belt and frowned at Castiel with a look of accusation as the other turned off the engine.

"What? My style of driving isn't _that_ bad," he protested, making Dean scoff sarcastically.

"Yeah, right. You just made my stomach turn within the last five minutes. That speaks for itself."

Castiel tsk-ed him and unbuckled his seat belt as well, then he suddenly leaned forward and made Dean completely flustered and speechless. There went his self-confidence, as it quickly shrunk and deflated. Castiel's face was way too near, Dean could perveice the little warm puffs of exhales scraping his jaw and bottom lip. The white light of nearby street lamps enhanced the fine features of Castiel's facial structure, in his eyes a serene fire burnt. Dean realized how close their lips were, just a hair's breadth away from touching. Castiel regarded him through half-closed lids, heavy with lust and some kind of dark amusement.

"And here I was, thinking butterflies were turning your stomach," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Dean's. Dean gulped heavily, feeling his throat constrict with an aching craving. He was put under Castiel's bewitching spell, there was nothing he could do to escape it. So he leaned forward as well, awfully attracted to him - their faces incredibly close, so that Castiel's breathing faltered for a moment, then it became erratic. He watched the lust dancing behind those lids, how his sexual longing beautified Castiel's features.

"You might say that," Dean uttered, glad he put the littlest smile on Castiel's lips.

"Do other offensive remarks come to your mind in addition? Because you have to keep quiet for a good while now," Castiel deadpanned.

"Yeah, one thing: Shut up and kiss me already," Dean managed to growl, and then Castiel's lips were already on his, kissing him hard and thoroughly. Dean felt wonderfully dizzy as he let himself be dissolved by Castiel's demanding mouth, how the other caressed him in such a fine way... He was still overwhelmed and his knees were wobbly when they let go of the other at last and entered the restaurant.

Dean laughed inwardly when he read the name of it, a sign above the entry "Silence is Golden" gave the philosophy of the owner blatantly away. As they walked inside he saw a dozen wooden square tables, which were roughly manufactured, and had comfortable-looking benches, dark with the same wooden material. The whole room appeared rustic and sturdy, but altogether Dean thought he liked the atmosphere of this place. The light was warm and dim, a lot of candles burnt on the tables and gave the restaurant a heartwarming, cozy touch. An eerie silence rang in Dean's ear; the lack of conversations was audible. A waitress brought them to their table and handed them menu cards with a quiet smile. She pointed at a slip of paper, which was attached to both cards – it explained the house rules, that no guest was allowed to talk or to communicate with written words. They nodded in unison to show her they had understood the little note, she smiled friendly at them and walked away to give them time to decide what they wanted to eat.

At first Dean felt out of his element – this situation was beyond weird. There was an older man in the corner, slurping his soup embarrassingly loudly. A middle-aged couple sat nearby, and apparently the lady couldn't cut her steak right, for her knife was scraping over the plate terribly. Dean frowned and sent Castiel a reprehensible look of annoyance, which brought an amused glint to those damn blue eyes. Dean hoped Castiel comprehended what he was saying without words: _I think I will lose my mind any time soon._ Castiel licked his bottom lip self-consciously and leaned forward to take Dean's hand gently into his, placating him with a simple touch. He turned his own menu card around and pointed at the special of the house, which was meant for two: Self-made hamburgers with roasted vegetables as the side dish and cheesecake for dessert. Dean's mouth was already watering, though a part of him wanted to protest and explain to Castiel the very important difference between _cake_ and _pie_. It wasn't a thing to joke about. Too bad he wasn't allowed to talk, so he just nodded and squeezed Castiel's hand like a confirmation to his suggestion.

The waitress returned pretty soon and took their order by looking over Castiel's shoulder as he showed her the menu they wanted. Dean had to laugh when she apparently asked them how they preferred their meat, because there wasn't really a good way to say "medium" without words - he examined Castiel and the waitress exchanging silly gestures until both seemed to understand what the other meant, chuckling tickled pink. By the time Castiel had finished their order, his face was plunged in a shade of deep red, tears of laughter were in his and Dean's eyes. He grinned sheepishly at Dean and shrugged his shoulder as if to say _happens all the time_.

While they waited for their dinner, Dean studied the restaurant and the customers with interest, though he was mostly interested in the intriguing man sitting opposite to him. Again and again his eyes came to rest on Castiel. He looked stunningly _gorgeous_ tonight. They held hands and Castiel's fingers stroked the back of Dean's hand intimately. A mirthful flicker danced in his deep blue eyes, Dean felt mesmerized when he watched the candlelight enhancing Castiel's beauty. He was glad he wasn't allowed to speak because there were no words to describe the vibe of the evening or what Castiel was doing to him. He was wrecking him, he was causing a havoc, and Dean loved every second of it. He knew it was ridiculously romantic to sit in a restaurant like this, holding hands and gazing at each other, but he just couldn't seem to make himself care. Too precious was the gentle smile dwelling on Castiel's lips as he regarded Dean with appreciation, too sweet were his fondlings, his restrained touches. There was no background music in the restaurant, so the sounds of the other guests and the sounds coming from the kitchen were the only noises filling the void of tones.

Dean had to stifle a laugh when the man with the soup began munching his steak with smacking noises; it was kind of disgusting but also so stupidly funny. He behaved childishly, but he couldn't help it as a huge grin parted his lips. Castiel shook his head at him reproachfully, but he was grinning too, obviously struggling to keep it together. Dean felt the slight, warm sweat of Castiel's palm bedewing his and a tenderness he hadn't remembered in ages came to his mind. How good it felt to spend this evening with Castiel... Dean knew how to savour a precious moment like this. Castiel's behaviour brought forth another side of him, so he was merely surprised when he bent forward and raised Castiel's hand to his mouth. He drowned in Castiel's widened eyes as he placed an innocent, long-lasting kiss on the back of Castiel's hand, seeing the light blush creeping to his cheeks. He was lost, so utterly lost...

Their dinner arrived and they had to let the other's hand go in order to eat properly. Dean tested everything and the suspicious frown he had worn vanished within seconds. Instead, quiet moans and acknowledging hums passed his lips. The stuff was simply delicious, to die for! The bun of the burger was sweet, the meat was perfectly grilled, oh god, and the sauce, the sauce...! Castiel smirked at him, knowledge visible in his eyes as he observed Dean engulfing his food with enthusiasm. He raised his thumb to show Castiel he liked the food very much, whereupon Castiel just nodded – before Dean knew what was happening, a cheeky fork had stolen some of his roasted vegetables, putting a mask of protest on his features. He sulked and pursed his lips while Castiel ate his stolen vegetables with relish, grinning around the fork in his mouth boldly.

The meal passed faster than Dean would have liked, he was so entranced with Castiel's captivating charm and already dreaded the end of the evening. They fed each other foolishly every now and then, though they had the exact same things on their plates. It was simply too enthralling to watch Castiel's mouth enclose the hills of steaming food and how he stared at Dean with bedroom eyes. Dean was embarrassingly only one tiny step away from drooling and whining like a dog in heat. Even though Dean had dreaded this "otherness" of the restaurant, when dessert came, he had to admit it had a very appeasable aura. He couldn't recall the last time he had paid so much attention to what he ate, and never had the flavours tasted richer. Not to mention how infatuated and inebriated this evening had made him thanks to Castiel's beguiling company. Dean ate his cake slowly and regarded the other man with a fond gaze, seeing him respond in the same affectionate manner.

During the passing hour or two, he had enough time to ponder about what it meant that he and Castiel had come so close to each other in so little time, spiraling towards each other like whipping tops. Dean realized he was gradually coming out of his shell, only to grasp it wasn't the worst thing to open up to someone for a change. To allow himself to fall in love with that someone. This evening, Dean thought many times how he would be more than satisfied to continue beholding Castiel for a lifetime – it would have met the demands of his greedy heart.

Even though the world outside this confined restaurant was still turning maddeningly fast, Dean was sure he wouldn't forget this date so soon, that this day would always replay in his head. Maybe he would find comfort in the tranquility and exhilaration he had felt tonight the next time he killed a beast or the next time he would salt and burn a corpse. Maybe it would be easier to proceed his life with the sacred memory of this evening. The next time his and Castiel's eyes met for an indefinable length of time, Dean thought how blessed he was to have met Castiel. The man who had somehow coaxed him to fall without the usual securities, further than he had ever fallen. And it felt so incredibly good...

**TBC**

Lo and behold, such mawkishness you've survived! What do you think? =)


	21. Chapter 21

_See below for author's notes, darlings! A million thanks to the lovely-but-always-working Faith Valconbridge for beta-reading this chapter. I must say I'm a bit proud of myself for delivering less and less mistakes (learning process, hooray!)_

**Chapter 21**

They left the restaurant with pleasantly filled stomachs and a peaceful mood within their minds. Dean had rejected Castiel's offer to pay for their meal, but Castiel had the advantage that neither of them was allowed to speak, so he had paid nevertheless, a wicked, sneering smirk on his lips as he completely ignored Dean's attempts to protest. Dean had pouted a little, but when Castiel got up and took his hand lovingly in his to pull him up, the trifle was already forgotten. They held hands when they strolled out of the restaurant slowly, Castiel turned around and waved goodbye to the waitress, who waved back with a kind smile. Dean felt soothed due to Castiel's indestructible patience, how he gave Dean all the time in the world to hobble beside him. Affection blossomed vividly in Dean when Castiel held the door open for him, the perfect gentleman. As soon as the door was closed behind them, and as soon as Dean felt the clear air of the night permeating his lungs, the urge to speak again almost throttled him. As if they were still sitting in the restaurant, Castiel smiled silently at him, somewhat taciturn, looking nothing short of hauntingly beautiful in the bluish twilight of the surrounding night.

"You're really handsome, you know that?" Dean asked with a hoarse voice, and Castiel's smile fell a little. He seemed surprised by Dean's sudden compliment, but Dean had longed to say these words all evening long. It was relieving to utter them at last. Dean sensed an odd tremble running through Castiel's hand as they still held hands and walked side by side. Castiel's pace slowed down gradually and a strange frown appeared on his forehead. Dean was aware of the shift of Castiel's mood, how pensive he became at once. He stopped dead in his tracks, gently forcing Castiel to stop as well. He squeezed his hand and searched for his eyes, canting his head to read the expression in his lover's face.

"Did I say something wrong?" Dean tried carefully, studying the tiniest smile crawling to Castiel's lips. He looked up from underneath his lashes, his eyes heavy with meaning, a playful ember dancing in his lucid irises. Dean's breathing faltered, he was so hypnotized by Castiel's mind-blowing appearance. How admirable he was, how softly the silver moonlight came to rest on his cheekbones, how it refracted in his blue gems... Dean's heart thud slowly and strongly in his chest, chanting he should demand everything he desired from this man immediately.

"Do you sometimes think it's all too good to be true? Have you ever felt so happy that you feared it could never last?" Castiel counter-questioned, examining Dean's face with intense attention, a confusing, grim smile on his lips. Dean sucked in a shaky breath, a hot shiver ran down his spine. He knew exactly what Castiel was referring to, and he was also afraid, yes he was so afraid – because this thing between them, it was a good thing, and he was happy, of course he was. And what did it mean that Castiel was afraid as well? What did it mean that he was scared to lose this? It could have been nothing but... love. Recognition came to Dean, he was overrun with nothing but delicate endearment for Castiel. With a sharp, feverish pang of devotion he grabbed Castiel by the hips and pulled him impetuously against him, connecting their bodies intimately. Castiel averted his eyes shyly and looked away, Dean could feel his chest rising and falling against his, how their bellies and waists were pressing against each other. Castiel's exhales were hectic and short-lived, he seemed very nervous to Dean.

He held Castiel tighter in his arms and sought for his eyes, giving him a steady, collected gaze when their eyes met at last. Castiel's mouth fell open, obviously overwhelmed by Dean's vehemence. In this moment Dean wanted to make thousand promises he knew he would never keep. Anything to calm Castiel and to reassure him of his feelings for him. He wanted to tell him he would never hurt him, that this thing between them would last forever. That he would always keep him save and love him everyday like it was his last on earth – but he surely knew he could never live up to his and Castiel's expectations. This simply wasn't a fairytale, there were no helping gods, no divine fate which would keep them together. This was the gruesome reality in which people died, in which people went separate ways and fought and argued... So Dean kept his mouth shut. The least thing he could do was to lean forward and tilt his head to kiss Castiel with all he had. They both shut their lids and melted into each other, Castiel became limp in Dean's arms and nestled against him longingly.

His mouth was so soft, so sweet... Dean couldn't get enough. He smothered Castiel with millions of frenzied kisses, parting those pliant lips with his tongue hungrily as he let it slip inside. Dean was light-headed when Castiel's tongue enveloped his and as they slid together slowly, white stars danced before his closed eyes. The quiet, warm night surrounded them, shielded them caringly from the clarity of the cruel reality. While they inhaled the spicy clean air with trembling breaths, their lips brushing over each other, Dean thought everything around them was blurred, just fading buildings, streets and plants. Nothing that had a heartbeat, nothing that mattered as much as Castiel's warmth, the sensation of his breath-taking kisses... Dean held his lean body closely to his heart as their kisses deepened and deepened, he was on the verge of lashing into him right here and now. Castiel's worries seemed to crumble to insignificant dust as he sighed into Dean's mouth and as his fingers dug into Dean's shoulders desperately.

All at once Castiel's knees gave way with a jerk and he held on to Dean's torso wobbly, their lips parted. Dean bowed his head to make sure Castiel was alright – an expression of astonishment graced Castiel's face, mesmerized he studied Dean's chest. Even though it was dark, Dean detected the fierce blush cloaking Castiel's cheeks, he looked as if he was burning hotly. He shook Castiel gently - "Are you okay?" - and Castiel raised his eyes very slowly, showing a glassy, rather unfocussed glance and a lopsided smile. He staggered somewhat unsteadily and Dean held him up with gentle force.

"Heh, you just rushed me off my feet with your kisses," Castiel scoffed with a bright chuckle, a fair glint shining brightly in his dilated eyes as he regarded Dean. A dolorous lump narrowed Dean's throat as he was overrun with affection. His heart threatened to jump out of his chest or to explode straight away because he couldn't understand how he had deserved someone like Castiel. Someone who took so much pleasure in their kisses that he became dizzy and had to hold on to Dean to stop the lurch. Someone who oozed charm so naturally that it simply blew Dean away. Within the fractures of a second, Castiel cradled Dean in his arms and buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, hugging him with such an ardent passion that Dean thought he might be swept off his feet as well. He reacted instinctively and wrapped his arms around Castiel protectively, feeling him snuggle up to him. An unseen, moved smile covered Dean's mouth as he nuzzled Castiel's divine smelling hair and squeezed him mildly.

…

**-Thursday-**

Dean couldn't exactly pinpoint how or when exactly it had happened. He couldn't name the minute or the hour in which their relationship had changed, but he knew that after this romantic date something _had_ changed between them for sure. It was impossible to detect what differences that evening had created, and Dean couldn't lay his hands on it and explain what had transformed – but the alteration was tangible, so much that it made his body twitch and vibrate with alertness, overpowered by sweet exhilaration. Castiel was even more attentive than usual, and there was the softest gleam remaining in his eyes all the time whenever he looked at Dean. Their behaviour around one another was as effortless and as honest as possible, Dean didn't even think about restraining himself any longer. He let go of all the inhibitions he had kept in his mind whenever he had spent some time with Castiel, and now he showed him who he was utterly blatantly. Castiel seemed to respond to Dean in an equally delighted way, he opened up to him so naturally, it felt like breathing. Though Dean often felt his breaths stop and stumble when he felt another wave of infatuation carrying him away, becoming speechless due to Castiel's charming being.

Currently, they chilled out in Castiel's living room, it was Thursday evening of the fourth week of Dean's stay in the rehab-center. The sky outside was darkening, plunged into a multi-coloured spectacle, which tinted Castiel's flat into a weird, dim lighting. Grey was the most present hue and it spread between them as soft twilight. Castiel had lit some tea lights and sat on the couch, his knees hunched towards his torso as he was sprawling on the piece of furniture. Dean cowered in front of him on the cozy carpet, watching how Castiel worked on a small piece of wood with a concentrated frown, mumbling quiet explanations as he demonstrated Dean how he made his carvings. Dean regarded the adept fingers leading the sharp knife over the log, the wood shavings fell idly to the ground without a single sound. Dean couldn't decipher what Castiel was carving and Castiel refused to tell him with a twitching smile, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Dean loved to see him like this, absolutely focused and coming loose while he did something he obviously liked. He seemed so serene and satisfied with his pastime, nothing bothered or upset him. He was at ease, and so Dean was at ease as well. Suddenly Castiel stopped and yanked up his head, staring at Dean with a mild, startled mien, his mouth agape. Dean grinned at Castiel's dumb countenance and saw the crow's feet surrounding Castiel's eyes as he broke out into a tender smile.

"I completely forgot, I wanted to show you something. I have a challenge for you," Castiel mysteriously declared, then he got up and left the knife and the piece of wood on the sofa. Suspiciously, Dean gazed after him as Castiel exited the living room only to return half a minute later with a proud smirk and a puce acoustic guitar in his hand. He gave it to Dean carefully and placed it in his lap, Dean held it downright confused. What, was he supposed to play guitar now? He eyed the fingerboard, it was time-worn, the black paint had vanished because the guitar had apparently been used a lot. Castiel sat back down with a smug, sly smile, staring bluntly into Dean's baffled eyes.

"What? You said you played back in high school and I found the old guitar my father used to play. So, what are you, Dean: Man or wuss? Show me what you got!" Castiel dared him, raising Dean's spirit immediately. Hah, he would show him what he got, alright! He scoffed arrogantly and answered, "You will melt like chocolate once you listen to me. I'm not sure you're prepared for that." He laughed inwardly when Castiel's face fell in surprise. Castiel however recovered swiftly and narrowed his eyes provocatively as he glared at Dean.

"Deeds are better than words," he retorted, then he leaned against the backrest and picked up his knife and the log again, returning to where he had left off. He emanated such a calm vibe that Dean couldn't even begin to feel embarrassed due to Castiel's demand. It seemed like the most self-evident thing in the world to present himself in this exposed way... Dean frowned at the guitar and started to tune the old, rusty strings warily, wincing when he heard how off-tune and warped they were. He hated nothing more than false sounding instruments. Fortunately, the clear ring of a D major and an A major had been branded into his memory somehow and he snaked along those two tones to tune the rest correctly, humming along to funnel his attention better on the task at hand.

When he was done, he toyed a little with the guitar, strumming meaningless patterns and sequences of chords to warm up. It had been quite a while since the last time he had played the guitar, let alone the last time he had played for someone. While his fingers glided over the strings, his eyes were occupied with Castiel's wonderful appearance – the other man had his head tilted a little and continued carving with his knife, a brittle, fond smile was glued to his lips as he listened to Dean's musical nonsense. At long last, a song came to his mind he had loved to play back in high school, though it wasn't exactly a love song to woo someone. A pleased smile came to his lips when he dared to play the blues-like, rock 'n roll melody carefully. He tested it a few times, but the memory came back quickly as if he had never stopped playing at all.

While he played the groovy intro repeatedly, his eyes scanned Castiel's face briefly, he looked impressed and wagged his head subtly along to the rhythm of the song. Dean knew he wasn't the best of singers but the urge to squeeze out the lyrics he could identify with so perfectly was unbearable, so he began to sing unafraid, his eyes focused on the guitar.

_I was born my papa's son_

_When I hit the ground I was on the run_

_I had one glad hand and the other behind_

_You can have yours, just give me mine_

_When the hound dog barkin' in the black of the night_

_stick my hand in my pocket, everything's alright_

He was astonished how altered his voice sounded, darker and rougher, giving the song the acerbity Dean's voice had lacked of as a teen. He was brimming with mirth while he retrieved the fun he usually felt when he made music. God, how he had missed this feeling... To play the right chords and get the notes right, it was hugely satisfying. Once he finished the song his ears rang dully because of the absence of sounds. Castiel paused his work and regarded Dean with a moved, mellow expression veiling his face. He averted his eyes shyly and returned to his carving.

"Keep playing. I like it a lot..." Castiel admitted quietly, sounding a little defeated because Dean had been right, even though he had behaved so smug. Absentmindedly, he let his fingers execute whatever they wanted, and before he knew what was happening, he had fallen into a love ballade he knew by heart. It wasn't far-fetched to start such a song while he beheld Castiel, absolutely hypnotized by the other, who didn't look at him but smiled all the time as if Dean addressed the best compliments to him. A dark blush cloaked Castiel's cheeks and Dean watched the knife in his hand trembling oddly, the carving process became slower. Dean liked the melancholic atmosphere of the song, and though it was a little gloomy, it seemed hopeful to him, especially when he directed it at his lover unwittingly.

_You in the dark, you in the pain, you on the run_

_Living your hell, living your ghost, living your end_

_Never seem to get in the place that I belong_

_don't wanna lose the time, lose the time to come_

Unintentionally he had laid his innermost thoughts bare, confessing indirectly how it tore him apart to just think about leaving Castiel – he needed to have more time with him, he didn't know what was to become of him if it took place any other way. There were only two weeks left, and what would happen then was nothing but an obscure riddle to Dean.

_Whatever you say, it's alright_

_Whatever you do, it's all good_

_Whatever you say, it's alright_

Halfway through the song, Castiel raised his gaze slowly and his eyes were containing a sharp, knowing look as they bore straight through Dean, reading him like an open book. While Dean sang to him with all his heart, aching with the rapture and pain of loving Castiel so deeply, he detected tears were welling in Castiel's red-rimmed eyes, his smile became twitchy. He let Dean finish the song, a serene smile remaining on his kissable mouth all the time. When Dean was done, he put the guitar away and Castiel lowered himself on his knees next to Dean as if they had an unspoken agreement. Castiel's chest was heaving with deep, quavering breaths, he held the completed carving pressed against his chest awkwardly. He considered Dean for a moment, then he extended his hand and put the piece of wood gently in Dean's palm.

Taken back, Dean scrutinized the round plate he held in his hand, it was so little he could easily shove it in his jeans' pockets. It was richly carved, he pondered whether he had seen such a thing before: To him it looked like countless interwoven knots, like entangled yarn with no identifiable end or beginning. It was some kind of symbol Dean thought he knew, maybe he had come across it in John's diary... Castiel's warm hand suddenly enveloped his and the carving in his palm, Dean could sense the warm, smooth texture of his skin. He hadn't witnessed how close Castiel had come as they were kneeling face to face on the carpet now. He uplifted his head, only to see Castiel's hovering so very near in front of him, the orange candlelight coming to rest on his head, making him look ethereal. Dean's exhales stagnated when Castiel squeezed his hand caringly.

"This is a Celtic knot. The interlacing ribbons are meant to protect you against evil spirits and demons. I know you already have this tattoo... but, you know, better safe than sorry," Castiel said with a sad smile, breaking Dean's heart. Did he deserve this kind of compassion? This gracious concern? Staggering yearning swelled in his chest as his eyes scanned over Castiel's face, trying to find words of thanks, but his throat ached and the loud beat of his heart drowned out every clear thought he tried to grasp. Castiel's lips called for him, so luring and ready... He observed the pink tip of Castiel's tongue bedewing his bottom lip nervously, wrecking Dean's resistance immediately. He leapt forward, one hand framing Castiel's right cheek, and claimed his mouth with passionate kisses. Soon he was swooning over the way Castiel reacted to his untamed lips and tongue – he tilted his head and opened his mouth widely, letting Dean inside and devour him greedily, while Castiel's hands roamed all over Dean's body messily. It had been too long since their last time together... However, their pact was still intact.

Despite all that Castiel was crawling on Dean's lap, his hands pressing Dean's shoulders down, so that Dean had to lie down completely. Castiel's lips were kissing Dean's again and again; a hot shudder ran over Dean like a murderous frenzy when Castiel bit into his lower lip and tugged at it playfully. Lust was stirred in Dean's abdomen, he loved the weight of Castiel in his lap. His hands knew by intuition what to do and where to touch – they wandered along lean sides, under the hem of Castiel's shirt and stroked his flat, warm stomach stimulatory. Castiel let go of his mouth, in exchange he ran his fingers through Dean's hair and fisted it harshly, making Dean groan and wince aroused. He arched his back as he lost his self-control while Castiel sucked on his throat and left dark hickeys just below the collar of his shirt.

"From now on..." Castiel said while he breathed labouredly, kissing his way down Dean's nape and collar bone wetly, "you have to play and sing to me all the time." Dean was never good with taking a compliment, so he couldn't hold back the shy laughter as he stroked through Castiel's soft, dark hair lovingly.

"I'm not that good, Cas," he wrote it off quietly. Castiel sat up on his lap and took Dean's hands in his, bringing them down beside Dean's head. He gazed at Dean for a long time, the smallest smile attached to his kiss-swollen lips. Castiel's warm breath touching Dean's face again and again felt like sweet honey, it produced a terrible longing in his chest the more he allowed himself to drown in the deep blue eyes beholding him tenderly. He could perceive the heat of his lover's body covering him, vortexes of lust throbbed inside his abdomen. God, how he ached to rip Castiel's clothes off and take him like he wanted to...

"You're good enough for me," Castiel insisted determinately, and Dean's heart gave up for a frightening second. These words simply made Dean fall silent, agitation close to bliss and panic ran over him as he lost every sensible thought in light of Castiel's fine visage. He felt as if Castiel gave life back to him as he smothered him with thousand kisses, breathing and licking into his mouth avidly. He pinned Dean's hands down with slight pressure and made Dean tremble and sigh wantonly as Castiel pressed against him lasciviously. He smelt of wood and something spicy that made Dean think of clarity – it was as if a cool breeze of air filled him up and flooded him with lust for living. The atmosphere was thick with sexual tension, Castiel's hardening length was pulsating against Dean's tummy. He clutched the back of his lover's hands firmly and used his abs to sit up, Castiel still in his lap.

Out of nowhere, their hands developed a life of their own as they tugged and pulled at the other man, sliding over chests and backs desirously, causing a havoc. Their mouths met and crashed together in gut-wrenching, longing kisses that left Dean dumbfound and quavering with maddening pleasure. It felt like Castiel's hands were all over him, taking charge of him easily, and Dean wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the nerve-wracking caresses Castiel gave him. Their tongues glided along each other's intimately, Dean fisted Castiel's hair fiercely and inclined his head to deepen the sensual kiss. He heard a high-pitched whimper that let hot thunderbolts pass through him, Castiel clutched his shoulders firmly as lust grew within them increasingly.

When it all became too much, Dean pulled back and turned his flushed face away, trying to quieten down his throaty breaths. This was all spinning out of control way too quickly.

"Cas... I thought we had an agreement," he protested meekly, his resistance was drifting away like an ice floe on the Arctic Ocean. How could Castiel murder his resolution so nonchalantly? Did he even know how tempting he was, how he made Dean lose his mind? There was a warm, damp kiss cautiously pressed on Dean's stubbly cheek, combined with the volatile, fickle exhales of his lover ghosting over his temple. Dean winced as another wave of ardent desire took a hold of him, his fingers dug into Castiel's hips hungrily. Castiel shifted on his lap in a provoking movement, the grinding of his pelvis was nothing but teasing torture. The sloppy, wet tongue running down Dean's throat, along with scraping teeth, was not helping either.

"Dean... just... make out with me, please. I need to feel you, I need your warmth... You feel so good...," Castiel whispered, his fingernails delving into Dean's muscular back with fervour as he kept rutting against Dean's growing erection incessantly. He heard his own moan rattling through his airways as he showered Castiel's long, sensible nape with open-mouthed kisses, allowing his tongue to draw insignificant patterns on the smooth skin. His lover was sighing and moaning erotically as he ran his hands through Dean's hair and held him close to his chest. Light spasms were grasping him and his thighs clenched around Dean's hips as they crashed into each other like tidal waves; neither of them could stop. How easy it would have been to lay Castiel down on the fluffy carpet, to undress him and make him beg for more... But there was still a spark of reason in Dean's mind, so he mumbled "keep it PG-13," a smile on his mouth as it rested against his lover's neck. He thought he could hear Castiel smile too.

…

When Dean left that evening, the carving Castiel had given him packed away in his jeans' pocket, he couldn't wipe away the cheerful smile clinging to his kiss-bruised mouth. The view of Castiel standing in the doorway was simply too perfect to forget... How dishevelled his hair was, how his cheeks were still tinted with a fair rosy colour, his eyes practically sparkled with delight... How full and billowed his red lips were, forming that kind of affectionate smile that made Dean's heart flutter nervously in his chest. God, he was so head over heels in love with him... He rubbed his neck shyly, sensing the dark hickeys Castiel had left there, then he leaned down to kiss Castiel one more time, saying goodnight to him.

**-Friday-**

"Alright, let's try this one," Castiel argued with a toothy grin, Dean snickered and poked his lover's ribs amicably.

"Give it up, Cas, you're just not funny!"

"Shut it, can't blame me for trying. Okay: What happens when you throw a green rock into the Red Sea?"

Dean beheld him with an intimidating glare, though he was laughing inwardly about Castiel's nerdy, cute behaviour as he was telling him one stupid joke after the other, set on making Dean laugh. And these jokes were all very, very awful. Dean wriggled on the mat in Castiel's office, the slight layer of sweat sticking to his body like warm glue. He needed a shower. It was Friday and they had finished the last workout session for this week, thank God.

"It gets wet!," Castiel exclaimed excited, waiting for Dean to laugh at last, but Dean just face palmed with a groan. How many more of these dumb jokes could he take?

"Cas, that was even worse than the other ones!," he complained with an agonized wail, hearing Castiel's aggrieved, pouting "What?!" in return. Dean rolled around on his side to study Castiel's hauntingly beautiful eyes brimming over with flickering mirth as he regarded Dean with a cheeky smile. He had his face rested on his cocked up arm, his fingers began stroking Dean's torso absentmindedly albeit gently. Dean felt so calm and collected in Castiel's company, it was quite enthralling to share this level of intimacy with each other.

"Alright, last attempt: Why do lions always eat raw meat? Because they don't know how to cook!"

Dean sat up impulsively and narrowed his eyes threateningly while Castiel guffawed and rolled on the mat, laughing heartily at his own lame joke. Dean had to laugh at the given sight, shaking his head slowly as he regarded his silly lover. Damn it, how could a guy be so sweet?

"That's it, now I've got to finish you!" he called out foolishly – a tickle fight emerged and Dean was making Castiel screech and squirm underneath his adept, knowing fingers. He knew exactly where to tickle and where to tease, and Castiel was becoming a huffing and puffing mess, grinning and whining simultaneously...

"Deeeaaaan!" he squeaked desperately, seizing Dean's hands to make him stop as he hovered over him like some kind of predator eyeing its prey. Subconsciously Castiel had spread his legs so that Dean was kneeling between them, he had placed Dean's palms right on his pecs; Dean could feel the defined muscles twitch and work on their own. Suddenly the playful vibe took on another note, the broad smiles died on their lips slowly. Dean was attracted to Castiel's agape, alluring mouth, how the other breathed so stagnantly as their eyes darted over each other's faces restlessly, estimating the situation. Within fractures of a second he lowered his head and brought his lips against Castiel's, tasting him, breathing his beguiling, rich scent in as he devoted himself to their kisses.

Castiel wrapped his legs around Dean's waist effortlessly, uplifting his ass so that his hips were rolling in frenzied waves against Dean's abdomen while he arched his back. He slung his arms around Dean's neck, one palm gliding smoothly into Dean's short-cropped hair as he moved his skull down to intensify their longing kisses. Dean felt the treacherous, thumping hardness lying upwards on Castiel's lower stomach as his pelvis answered to Castiel's heady, seducing movements. He let go of his lover's mouth and gulped heavily, watching how deep blue eyes dilated, how the colour was suppressed by immense, desirous blackness. A soft, rosy hue shadowed Castiel's face, a hazy expression dwelt in his eyes. He looked so turned on, it was almost painful to watch for Dean, because he was craving for him too.

All good resolutions vanished into thin air as if they had never existed in the first place the moment Dean watched Castiel turn around slowly, presenting his well-formed back and ass confidently to him. Petrified he looked down at himself, recognizing the huge bulge in his tracksuit pants, how it was exactly positioned between Castiel's round, firm butt cheeks. His therapist was panting loudly under him, a hand of his reached behind him and took Dean's wrist, yanking his hand so that it came to rest on Castiel's sharp hipbone.

"Touch me," he rasped desperately, rubbing his ass enticingly against Dean's hard erection. A gaping hole opened up in Dean's chest, his heart struck a racy pace, thundering within him like a deadly hurricane. Without his permission his other hand came around Castiel's torso as well, crawling hesitantly under the hem of his shirt. Carefully it found its way over a flat stomach, constricting abs and wonderfully warm planes of soft skin. Castiel was kneeling by now, his forehead pressed against the mat, the fingers of his right hand dug into the yielding mat somewhat tensely. Dean couldn't hold back his own fever anymore, so he clasped Castiel's hip forcefully and pulled him back, letting his hot, rock-hard erection slip between the crack of the other's ass. Castiel sucked in a shaky breath and spread his legs further, allowing Dean to come closer.

Greed overwhelmed Dean as he watched Castiel submitting to him so trustfully – with fidgety fingers he shoved the annoying fabric of Castiel's shirt away, exposing flawless, smoking hot skin. He tipped his head and started kissing the line of his lover's protruding spine, leaving light bites as he nibbled at those lean, gorgeous sides. He felt the shudders coursing through Castiel's body, how he tensed up and became lax over and over again. Little agonized sighs and moans escaped him as Dean's hands caressed him cautiously; his forefinger played with Castiel's left hardened nipple, twisting it. His mouth left wet, sloppy kisses on the delve of Castiel's back, moving lower and lower as he gnawed at the area right above Castiel's pants.

It was like a virus had smote them, a disease they couldn't and didn't want to shake off. Castiel was writhing underneath Dean and Dean found he didn't have the strength to stop himself. All he wanted was to give Castiel pleasure; he ached to educe those trembling, tormented sighs from him, they were most satisfying to listen to. Castiel was whimpering the moment Dean let his palms slide along his inner thighs, stroking his twitching erection from behind. He raised his ass and arched his back even more, and Dean used this position to let his tongue glide over the presented back extensively. All of a sudden Castiel cried out, jerking uncontrolled and rutting his hips frantically back and forth.

Dean studied Castiel's body as the orgasm was taking over him, how it made him boneless and taut by turns, how ragged and throaty his moans resounded as he held on to the mat desperately. Then, with one lengthy sigh, he slumped down on the ground and panted wearied, canting his head to the side so that he could cast an half-closed eye at Dean. A small smile spread on his mouth as their glances met, Dean still felt stunned due to the sensual incident, which had surprised them both in its untamed ferocity. He dared to let one hand stroke through Castiel's ruffled hair tenderly, recognizing how much his lover liked it as he hummed faintly and leaned his head towards Dean's palm. Dean couldn't resist the secret smile appearing on his lips as he watched Castiel closing his eyes, looking nothing but relaxed and utterly satisfied. He looked so beautiful, it tore Dean's chest apart.

"Hey, Dean..." Castiel mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah?"

He should have known better than to ask as soon as a huge grin unfurled on Castiel's plump mouth.

"Why is the ocean blue?"

Another stupid joke. Dean had no qualms about slapping Castiel's back of the head chidingly, loving how Castiel laughed carefree as Dean told him to shut up.

**TBC**

_because all the little fish go "blu blu blu" hahaha... omg so sorry for the awful humour, but that's just me. So, people, out there! Hello! Are you still there? Yeah? If so, please let me know what you think – suggestions, wishes, anything is welcome! You would totally make my day if you left me a review, I've been very very stressed within the last two weeks (a lot of work) =) [wasn't even hungry in 2 weeks, and that says a lot lol]. So, until next week, hope you all survive 9x11! Oh, and before I forget – the songs Dean sang in this are 1.) ZZ Top "Just got paid" and 2.) Bush "Letting the cables sleep"_


	22. Chapter 22

Hello cutie pies! How are you doing? Phew, I've had a very busy, emotional week! Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, you made my day! I'm very happy to see you sticking around and telling me what you think! Warning, this chapter isn't beta-read. I proofread it and made some corrections, but I lost my notes for other corrections, so, let's see if you can find them hehe... see below for more notes.

**Chapter 22**

The closer Dean and Castiel approximated each other on an emotional level, the quicker time seemed to pass. The weekend had come like a quick floating river swollen through endless rainfall, and now Dean watched time ooze away, unstoppable. The first flair of panic arose within him when he thought about the laughable, petty two weeks he had left in the rehab, two weeks that would vanish like a mayfly. There was no way to hold on to the days dying away, it were million grains of sands slithering through the gaps of his fingers, and all Dean could do was watch them, in awe of the inevitable: That he would be leaving soon.

He had gotten over and done with a horrible early breakfast this Saturday morning, and now he waited for Sam to come and see him. Dean couldn't really motivate himself to do something to kill some time, his heart was heavy with some kind of gloomy darkness bleeding all energy out of him. It was a nasty wound, which was composed of worries, some pangs of an announcing heartache and most of all, and quite contradictory, sheer weightlessness and vibrating joy to be in love with Castiel.

Though Dean was in a melancholic mood, he couldn't withhold the touched smile creeping up to his lips. He rethought the current week Castiel and he had spent together. Somehow he felt they had gained a new understanding for each other, and Dean felt reassured that he wasn't a dull cocoon containing nothing – that Castiel actually felt joy being around him and saw something within him Dean was blind to... Something had just clicked between them, from the first moment they had met – that certain hunch was only enhanced due to the last romantic days. It had felt so easy to be Castiel's his company, to open up to him and trust him completely. Hell, when Dean mulled over the date they had had in that weird restaurant... They had even understood each other without words, and if that wasn't an indication that clearly showed how well they got on with one another, Dean didn't know what was.

What surprised Dean even more was the fact how multi-faceted people could be – he had never really taken his time to get to know somebody in all detail, his life often implied brief acquaintances. The more he learned about Castiel, the more he wanted to know. It was fascinating to unfurl each layer of the mystic book that Castiel was, and Dean wanted to invest more time to browse in his pages. What a shame that time was the merest thing he had. He was driftwood in a vast ocean, and Castiel was the constant shoreline. There were so many things he adored about Castiel, little things he detected throughout the hours of each day – what made him smile, how he often stroked through his hair when he was nervous, all those subtleties you only learned once you stuck around. He never wanted to miss those fine nuances, he didn't think he would ever grow tired of them. They all contributed to Castiel's sweet, pleasant-nature being Dean had fallen for.

It was also exciting how Castiel thirsted to get to know Dean better, that he seemed interested in the broad spectrum of Dean's life and his thoughts and passions as well. During the years Dean had experienced persons weren't really that inclined to find out some information about him, he had barely met someone who cared enough about him to ask anything. What a strange feeling to be considered so important to a person... It made Dean proud and incredibly happy. He wanted to show and tell everyone there was someone who appreciated him with all his heart, who gave a damn. Someone who desired him and cared about what was occupying him. What a rare occurrence...

…

Sam rushed into Dean's room with a pack of documents and a box of donuts he had somehow smuggled in. It amused Dean to study Sam fighting with his messy hair nervously while the older Winchester chewed his sugar-glazed donut with relish and sat on his bed. God, what a delicious sin, those fatty, soft doughy thingies he had craved for within the last weeks...! Quite an improvement to the grey porridge he had had for breakfast. Sam piled innumerous stacks of papers on Dean's lap and on the close by nightstand, his fingers rummaging quickly as he was fishing for the right info sheets with a frown.

"Okay, what the hell is going on? You found something or why are you so wired up?" Dean protested with his mouth partly full, causing Sam to halt for a second. He raised up his eyes to stare into Dean's, his mouth slightly agape in awe.

"Uhm, actually, yeah. I remembered you told me to do some research about this Azazel, you know? The demon told you Azazel had plans for me and you wanted me to look it up. I totally forgot about the records I collected a week ago, and I bet your infatuated, hormone-driven brain also forgot about it. But, whatever, here we are. I finally looked over them, these are the things I found out."

Dean had barely time to retort to Sam's kind of rude words or to register them at all, then Sam was already fumbling around with the papers in his lap, pointing at an organization chart, which was absurdly edited – it was red and there were flames and blood drops to make it look spooky, but the information on it seemed usable.

"This is a diagram of the hierarchy in hell. Don't ask me where I got it from. Satanic online forum, weird people there. So, it shows the higher and lower echelons of hell's structure. And if we believe this sheet is of worth, then he have at least a trail to pursuit. It includes demons, spirits, name every nasty creature you've ever heard of. There are so-called first class and second class demons, then there are ancient and more powerful demons, they're... I think they're the second-in-command after Lucifer himself. And guess who our little friend Azazel is?"

Sam pointed at the side notes near the pyramid top and met Dean's eyes with a gloomy look, heavy with meaning. Dean gulped heavily, feeling his throat constrict with apprehension. That wasn't exactly promising.

"Well. Looks like he's an ancient, powerful bastard, taken under Lucifer's wings. Sounds hilarious."

The next time their gazes flickered over each other, Dean thought he saw worries growing Sam's face pale. He appeared sick, instantly Dean's heart accelerated its pace. Something here was terribly wrong. Sam handed him a document, which resembled a bible extract, for the letters were richly ornamented. The language must have been Latin, but luckily there was a translation written underneath. Dean read the lines fleetingly, his eyes darting over Sam's repeatedly, stunned at the content.

"It says Azazel will lead the troops of hell to pave the way for Lucifer's first borns – even older, far more mighty demons. And that passage I found interesting as well... here... it says Azazel will infest humanity like a disease, convincing mankind to support his cause."

The silence expanding between them was so tangible, it almost hurt. Dean thought he could hear his own rush of blood pumping through his veins, his mouth felt suddenly so dry... A guilty conscience subdued him when some of the last words of his father resounded in his head. He was ashamed, and his cheeks blushed with an unhealthy heat – he thought he should have known there was more to John's words than he had assumed in the first place. But this... this was bad. As bad as it got. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and rubbed his neck, trying to look as nonchalant and unfazed as possible.

"Any idea how to kill that son of a bitch? Did the devil worshippers spill something out online?" he asked, distracting his attention from his own guilt-laden mind. Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Not that I know of. I'd assume The Colt might work... it's not like we have a lot of options here, right?"

Dean laughed humourlessly and leant against the wall, scrutinizing his younger brother with a heartfelt regard. The moment Sam beheld him, Dean detected the lines of pain and disturbance written all over his face as if they had been carved in marble, unyielding and meant for eternity. They remained silent for a while, each of them knowing what the other was thinking, and yet Dean felt the urge to voice his concerns.

"You know we don't have The Colt since dad died. Whoever killed him took that thing along."

"Yeah, Dean. I know. What gives me more headache right now is that someone like _Azazel_ has _plans for me_. What is that supposed to mean? Am I intended for supporting his cause? Like... am I defecting for the dark side or what?"

Sam laughed nervously, and Dean could tell how wrecked he was, how these thoughts destroyed him bit by bit. He had rarely seen Sam like that – Jess' death had been one of those occasions in which he was about to break and lose his sanity. It inflicted Dean pain and incredible grief to watch Sam tugging at his hair shakily, about to tear some strands out. He was averting his eyes from Dean's seeking ones, but Dean was having none of it. He braced himself and bent forward, putting his palm gently on Sam's shoulder, forcing him to look at him as he shook him slightly.

"You won't. Okay? Not as long as I am around. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out."

Sam nodded meekly as if he was agreeing, though he didn't seem perfectly reassured to Dean.

"Sammy, who carried you out of that burning house when you were an infant, shrieking nuisance?" Dean chaffed, smiling softly when the littlest smile loomed on Sam's mouth.

"You did,"he replied, looking away again, his shoulders hunched awkwardly.

"Exactly. And who helped you winning your first girlfriend over, though she was two years older than you? What was her name again...?" Dean grinned inwardly while Sam's smile became broader, brisker.

"Her name was Suzanne, you jerk. But, alright, it was you. You helped me."

"See, that's what I thought. And you got to believe me when I say I won't let you wander off to the dark side, okay? I mean, you're already a freak, we don't want to make it even worse,"he bantered, but Sam's pensive glance quickly wiped the smirk off Dean's mouth.

"It's not funny, Dean... the visions I have might be just the beginning. You can't tell me that's normal. There's something wrong with me, I have these... these forces and I can't even control them. Even you can't deny that-,"Sam contemplated, yet Dean interrupted him and the grip of his fingers on Sam's shoulder tightened so that it almost became painful. He looked Sam steadily in the eye, not daring to let one ounce of doubt be written on his features, though he was uncertain and afraid as well.

"Sam – I promise: I won't let anything happen to you. And those weirdo powers you have, I think you can also turn them around and use them for our advantage, we just have to get the hang of it. Is your conscience at rest now or do you need to hear more of my convictions?" he declared, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Sam smiled honestly, almost affectionately, and the boyish grin approaching his visage took a load off Dean's mind.

"Thanks, Dean. There's just one more thing I wanted to show you..."

Sam reached for his bag and produced the D-EMF meter they had constructed the other day. A red light was blinking furiously and on the display coordinates beamed repeatedly; Sam held the gadget right under Dean's nose as if that was explaining everything self-evidently, but Dean just shrugged and frowned at his younger brother. Sam appeared unnerved due to Dean's lack of immediate comprehension, so he pointed at the meter with wild, enthusiastic gestures as he started to comment what the signs meant.

"Here, we have a huge vibrant activity in that area the coordinates are indicating at. The weather goes haywire at the moment, there are temperature drops for days now, not to mention the low oxygen content in the nearer surroundings... I'm pretty sure there are demons there, probably gathering."

The older Winchester's head was blank, absolutely clueless about what to do with this information, so he just stared at the brown-haired man in front of him, asking a precarious "So...?" making Sam obviously baffled with exasperation.

"So I suggest we check it out! I want to know if the D-EMF meter works correctly! Also, can't be too bad to know what those black-eyed bitches are up to, right?"

Dean assumed he would regret the next words one of these days, but he was itching to get to the bottom of this matter just like Sam, so he said them despite his qualms.

"I suppose..."

…

The hunter's way of life was catching up on Dean swiftly with each elapsing day and he knew deep inside he couldn't avoid it forever. The scouting expedition he and Sam had planned for tomorrow's Sunday was already too alike erstwhile events, Dean almost felt as if he had never paused being a hunter. It wasn't something you could easily quit, if you could quit it at all. He was just glad he had convinced Sam to leave the rest of this Saturday to him, so that he could spend it with Castiel like a normal guy, whose thoughts were far off demons, far off experiences between life and death and the damned devil himself.

He was twisting his bottom lip between his teeth pensively as he strolled through the park he had passed through so many times, deeply lost in thoughts. It was only noontime and the warm spring sun shone yellowish, donating light and pleasant heat to all pedestrians. Indeed, it was a little too hot for a normal spring day, it almost felt as if summer was announcing its entry.

Dean was still walking with a limp, but on the other hand he didn't need the annoying crutches anymore, for which he was unearthly grateful. Like this it took him longer to reach Castiel's apartment, and sweat was forming on his forehead, and yet it felt too damn good to retrieve some part of his independence, even if that meant he had to hobble undignified. Due in no small part he had to thank Castiel for his swift recovery, his therapist had pushed him to the extreme for his own benefit – he had encouraged him whenever Dean had been fatigued or unenthused. Without him he would presumably still require the crutches.

Warring voices chatted inside Dean's head loudly, all dealing with the lovely therapist Dean had fallen so hard for. One voice urged him to talk to Castiel about his leave-taking, which was only two weeks off. Another desired to uncover every emotion, fear and hope gnawing at Dean's heart, since he wanted Castiel to know him thoroughly. He didn't want to come across like a sailor having love affairs in every harbor he docked at. Granted, he might have accepted countless offers and taken a chance when it had caught his attention, but ... these times... Since Castiel, these times were over. Somehow he had changed and his fickle heart had come to rest, it didn't want to wander from person to person any longer. Bile arouse in his throat at the mere thought that Castiel could see him as this superficial pick-up artist, offering his body for a single night at the maximum.

In spite of his decent intentions, Dean couldn't gag the last and most persistent critical voice that screamed at him how unfair his behaviour was – that he engaged Castiel selfishly in this strange, intimate relationship, only to leave him behind within the period of a fortnight. He admitted to himself it wasn't exactly good manners to ensnare someone and then disappear without a trace. And even though he knew this, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't let go of Castiel, for the love of God, he couldn't. His heart constricted at the very idea, adrenaline made him gag and gasp for breath. His fingers were shaky, cold sweat was on his forehead, as he stood in the hallway of the apartment complex, collecting his composure. His exhales were uneven as he rang Castiel's doorbell.

His stomach did a queasy flip the moment Castiel opened the door and when he gave him a tender, nervous smile. Instantly Dean perceived a different vibe floating through the air, rarefying it so that his head was swimming violently. Castiel seemed profoundly calm and somehow changed, as if he had braced himself for something Dean couldn't know. The smile on his kissable mouth was honest, but a considered expression lingered in his achingly beautiful eyes as they beheld Dean for a lengthy second. His therapist took a step forward over the threshold and slung his arms around Dean's neck confidently, and yet... the way he clung to Dean and how he squeezed him hardly affirmed Dean's speculation that something was unusual today, altered to some extent he couldn't lay his finger on. He responded to Castiel's embrace and placed his hands on the small of his back, letting his palms glide up and down the smooth line of flesh and bones reassuringly. He buried his nose in his lover's sweet-smelling hair as if his scent alone was a cure to every disease in this world.

Castiel felt pure and soft against him, Dean cherished the sensation while he scattered some kisses on his temple and smooth, raven hair. His beloved withdrew and exhaled a shy laugh, rubbing his neck rather embarrassed; Dean thought he distinguished a rosy blush affecting Castiel's cheeks. His therapist kissed his lips fleetingly, it was just enough to make Dean lean forward and claim more, his mouth vibrating with the ghostlike, lightest touch of Castiel's. But then Castiel's slender fingers interlaced with his and his lover guided him inside, closing the door behind them with the tip of his feet. Castiel laughed heartily when Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's waist foolishly and staggered behind him, hampering him in his gait with silly broad steps.

They didn't exchange words, and Dean was a little out of it as he let Castiel lead him towards his bedroom silently, yet with a perceivable determination that left no room for discussions. Mutely Dean kept his arms around the shorter man, catching whiffs of his clean body odor and the welcome waves of heat radiating from him in irregular intervals. They entered the bedroom, into which rich, bourbon vanilla sunlight shone, making Castiel's hair and skin glow flatteringly as Dean observed the human spectacle in front of him. Castiel halted opposite the long side of his bed, bending his head downwards in a subtle manner, arousing Dean's interest. The man in his arms became strangely stiff and as motionless as a stone;

Dean twisted his head and glimpsed at whatever it was that lay on the mattress. Subconsciously, his grip on Castiel's slim hips intensified as if he was holding on to him, he heard his own breathing stumble and falter. His heart missed a beat, and it was like a hard blow against his jaw as it _dawned_ on him. His lover didn't look at him but kept staring down, apparently too shy and insecure to face Dean.

There on the bedsheets rested two items idly, utterly reckless of the turmoil of passions overwhelming Dean so mercilessly that his fingernails were digging ruggedly into the supple flesh of Castiel's waist. Was this invitation... for real? A packet of _ribbed condoms._ An oval bottle of _lube_. It was unambiguous, it was painfully clear, and Dean's heart throbbed with a hysteric pace, threatening to gallop off nonchalantly. In his jeans he sensed an uncomfortable thumping tightness, suddenly it was so very hard to swallow or breathe or think. His every focus was solely directed at the growing bulge in his pants and the seductive, taciturn being he held in an awkward embrace from behind. He thought he could hear the shaky exhales escaping Castiel's sinful mouth nervously, a whole body shudder made Castiel tremble delicately. He still wasn't turning his face towards Dean's when the words slipped away.

"I think it's time... Dean... uhm... there's no better for way for saying this: I really want to sleep with you,"Castiel said quietly, nevertheless his voice sounded steady. Dumbstruck Dean let the words sink in; a hand of his lover came up and reached out for him, threading through Dean's short-cropped hair tenderly, twisting the strands between slender fingers. Unknowingly Dean leaned into the gentle touch of the comfortable warm palm, inclining his head a bit. The moment Castiel sighed in aroused misery, some switch in Dean's head was being flipped. He found himself nibbling teasingly at Castiel's presented, sensitive throat, loving how Castiel became completely lax and thoughtless in his arms, his fingers pausing in mid-air, half forgotten as he gave in to the arousal Dean was causing.

Dean's hands roamed greedily over the lean planes of the shorter man's stomach, stroking abs veiled by his close-fitting shirt, exploring the feel of his defined pecs and his erect nipples piercing through the thin texture like tiny mountain peaks. Dean pressed against him from behind, rubbing his thumb over Cas' right nipple resolutely, and Castiel twitched uncontrolled, freezing in Dean's arms. Simultaneously Dean let his growing bulge glide smoothly between the clothed crack of Castiel's firm butt cheeks, feeling the heat and the constricting muscles there. Oh God, how he ached to be buried inside of him...

Involuntarily his pelvis buckled forward, rutting against his lover. He needed nothing more than to feel this intimate heat enclosing him with unyielding pressure. How would it be like to dive into this sweet, torturous narrowness, to be buried inside Castiel? Dean staggered and choked on his own breath, for a second the world around him became terribly blurred.

He barley dared to ponder about the importance of Castiel's wish, just a quick notion brushed him fleetingly, reached out for his awareness – that this step meant Castiel trusted him wholly, that he was about to devote his body and soul to him absolutely. An unseen moved smile crawled to Dean's lips as he kissed the crook of Castiel's neck, educing another sweet, wobbly sigh from him. Heat encased them, thrived between their huddled up bodies like a diffusing virus. Dean's head was swimming as he tasted the unique, salty flavor of Castiel's smooth, burning skin. He thought he could actually feel the rumbling of his lover's simmering blood as it coursed right underneath his skin, inflaming Castiel's body and mind ferociously. By now Dean's hands were eagerly snaking their way under the hem of the annoying shirt, finding pliant warm flesh of Castiel's lower stomach, which Dean caressed thoroughly, his mind set on maddening longing and the will to please Castiel.

At long last Castiel turned around in Dean's arms, his face was a mess – there were deep red cheeks, his hair was ruffled, his eyes contained a glassy, hazy expression. He was frowning, but Dean knew by now it was his mien for unfulfilled desire. Castiel bit on his plump bottom lip, apparently agonized by his longing, he looked wistful and too damn beautiful to behold. His blue eyes were glowing with a light that came from within, and somehow Dean knew he was to blame for the bright darting flame flickering in Castiel's gaze. It actually made Dean's heart contract with love and bitter-sweet pain to see the dark-haired man like this, so admirable in his plain beauty, eaten up by his yearning while golden sunlight enveloped him. How effortlessly he emanated sexual appetite, how every of his deep, tremulous intake of breaths seemed to drag out the air of this room, making the remnants sizzle with palpable tension. Dean's heart leapt into his throat as Castiel brought his arms around his neck and drew him in, a wary smile appearing on his lips.

Their mouths met, tentative and unmoving at first, then they were swiftly involving in feverish, frantic kisses. Dean dared to let his tongue breach the warm, agape mouth sliding together with his; it felt electric as his own tongue met Castiel's, how they massaged and entangled the other wetly, hungrily. The heartbeats inside Dean's chest became so awfully loud, as they pounded against his ribcage at a breathtaking pace, increasing the tempo with every second.

A sudden fever pitch captured Dean, and he was reaching out for Castiel's ass and thighs, tearing at him demandingly; Luckily Castiel understood his intentions and he followed Dean's lead, making a little jump so that Dean could lift him up. Another fit of dizziness enraptured Dean as Castiel twined his thighs around Dean's middle, his arms still enclosing the older man's neck and shoulder. For a laughable second of self-control their lips broke apart and they stared at each other, huffing and puffing, trying to estimate the situation and their earnestness. Every doubt died away when Dean made out the furrowed brow of Castiel, his wet, swollen lips, shining in a beguiling, sanguine red.

Castiel's breaths were chopped off, erratic, he was jerking constantly in Dean's grip. All at once the smaller man _canted his hips_ , clashing them with Dean's in a slow building rhythm, rubbing his ass effectively over Dean's erection. Their eyes were fixed on one another as they shared the inflamed air, bit by bit Dean watched Castiel's eyes dilate, how the blackness devoured the fine blue gruesomely. Without actually thinking about it, Dean let his guard down as Castiel moved so skilfully and seductively against him, the beginnings of low moans spilling out of his agape mouth. The heavenly noises coming from his lover were piercing straight through Dean's heart, a hot shudder ran down his back. Flames of lust licked at the bottom of his spine, he couldn't withstand moving his hips upwards to meet every roll of Castiel's pelvis. Before he could think twice about it, both his hands encompassed Castiel's ass, squeezing and massaging the firm round globes sensually – thereupon Castiel threw his head back, shivering oddly as he stilled in his motions. Mesmerized Dean regarded the constant pulsation of his lover's aorta, how the other gulped heavily while Dean kept groping his butt blatantly.

It was a heart-stopping moment as Dean felt the thick, long outline of Castiel's erection touching his lower stomach through the various layers of clothes, hammering with the same urge of blood. He was so hot, so hard, Dean was about to lose his mind. Unrest and impatience had their way with Dean, so he let every thought of control go; Instead he watched himself carrying Castiel to his bed, laying him down gently, only to collapse right on top of him, his hands supporting some of his weight. Everything was blinded out – Dean didn't care about the sunlight nor the chirping birds outside, he didn't listen to the soft murmur of the wind sifting through the canopies – the sight of Castiel splayed out in bed, right under him, was enough to make Dean forget the world and time itself. The way he breathed in staccato, how his eyes were glued to Dean's in awe, reading his every thought effortlessly. How brittle and loveable the smallest smile on his mouth was... His body seemed so ready and willing, his thighs opened up to Dean invitingly so that he could glide in between them. Dean's mouth was watering as he let his fingers touch the fiery skin of Castiel's torso, shoving the shirt upwards.

Castiel was struggling to keep his eyes open as they rested on Dean, his lids heavy with lust – he was watching Dean's every move, his every given caress attentively. He inhaled sharply, it almost sounded like a hiss, when Dean opened his jeans cautiously, undoing them while his eyes never broke their contact with his lover's. Dean couldn't suppress the little amused smile as Castiel wriggled out of his jeans somewhat ungracefully but no less loveable. However, when Dean's regard came to rest on the underwear Castiel had donned, he gasped for breath, an incredible wave of lust traveled through his lower abdomen. That son of a bitch... As if his body wasn't tempting enough! He _had_ to wear these rosy, loose-fitting satin trunks!

Dean swallowed nervously, examining the hard, pulsating outline of Castiel's cock straining the silken texture of his pants. A little bead of precome bedewed the front and Dean felt a craving he hadn't felt in ages – without truly realizing what he was doing, he was moving lower on the bed, his palms shoving Castiel's upper thighs apart with gentle force. His lover opened up to him trustfully, Dean heard his gut-wrenching, edgy sigh. Cautiously Dean covered the middle of the rock-hard, clothed erection with his opened mouth, enjoying the constant throb of the igneous flesh under his sensitive lips. For a second he remained in his position, breathing the arousing tangy scent of Castiel's private parts in. He was quickly becoming dizzy. A wayward hand of Castiel came to rest on Dean's skull, keeping him wordlessly in place. The smaller man groaned and arched his back while Dean's warm breaths moistened the erect territory further and further. Dean felt a frenzy of boiling blood running through his cheeks crudely as his fingertips caressed the soft, sensitive skin of Castiel's inner thighs; he was slowly but surely starting a cruel lovemaking to undo Castiel to the bone.

Castiel was whining utterly impassioned, buckling his hips towards Dean's opened, motionless mouth, obviously urging him to do _something_. His fingernails lightly scraped over the older man's scalp, as if he was searching for some hold. Following his intuition, Dean let his mouth travel down, gnawing at the lightly clad dick twitching under his ministrations so addictively. He postponed his blatant desire to suck his lover off, instead he devoted himself to kissing the inner sides of Castiel's thighs in detail while his hands stroked his hipbones slowly, rubbing small circles into the smooth skin. He felt some movement above and how Castiel doffed his shirt; he was sitting up slightly and in doing so forcing Dean to follow him into an alike position, so that he was kneeling in front of him. The next time their eyes met, Dean felt every breath leave his body, the world spun chaotically. Castiel's fingers tugged at Dean's shirt impatiently, and they were _trembling_ violently like an aspen leaf. He sat up and took off his shirt as well, letting it fall to the ground nonchalantly.

Now it was Dean's turn to let his heavy lids close, it was his turn to freeze hard as his lover's palms touched his naked chest admiringly, fondling it with most pleasant consideration. Dean could sense Castiel's fingertips sliding over his pecs, his stiffening nipples, over the slight hint of abdominal muscles... Dean shivered and felt his body bend towards the clever, loving hands; he felt so desired and worshipped, it made his throat constrict with a touched sentiment. All of this was so surreal... It seemed so heavily like an amazing wet dream. Surely, they had touched and caressed each other before, but now each contact of hands and mouths held a heavier meaning, made them gradually breathless.

When Castiel cupped Dean's clothed, hard length through his jeans, reality jumped at Dean once more and he found himself hypnotized by the gentle pressure with which Castiel began to massage him. It was so very strenuous to open his eyes, but he was rewarded for it as he drowned in the lust-blown, blue eyes clinging to his while Castiel's hand pleased him perfectly. Usually Dean took the lead in bed, but it wasn't weird or repulsive at all to let Castiel open his belt buckle and fly vehemently, shoving the blocking fabric down in one lithe go.

His eyes remained on the half-opened ones in front of him, deeply infatuated he absorbed the tiny smile on those kissed, gorgeous lips as he pulled off his own jeans completely. Though it was alright to let Castiel control him for a while, Dean felt the old habit of dominance catching up with him, and he pushed Castiel playfully down on the mattress, devouring him with a steady, firm look. Sparks were flying between them, the air was thick, as they observed the other in awe, finding no words for the chaotic situation. Dean lowered himself beside Castiel, sitting next to him as he studied the merely dressed body on the bed. He couldn't stop his right hand and he allowed it to stroke over the heaving chest, his eyes switching between Castiel's observing him and his sinful, beautiful body. He was light-headed as he dared to clasp the material of the rosy silken pants, pushing them down, totally overrun by lust. Castiel sucked in a shaky breath and Dean bit on his bottom lip when the pink, leaking cock was revealed.

Sexual appetite arouse achingly in Dean, he felt himself harden even more brutally, and within seconds he was going down on his lover again, settling down between his spread legs. Carefully he licked at the thin membrane of his cock, then he drank the pearl of precome hungrily in. Castiel was whining and moaning lengthily as Dean engulfed his erection, taking every inch inside his mouth. By intuition he initiated a slow rhythm, sucking and squeezing the part that fit into his mouth teasingly. Oh God... how Castiel was writhing underneath him, his legs twitching each time Dean licked over the ticklish slit... Dean couldn't help but touch himself, groping his own length while he had his way with his wanton partner.

If they kept continuing these cruel fondlings he would come before they even got to the real thing. It took him quite some willpower, but he let go of himself and Castiel's tempting cock, wiping over his mouth with the back of his hand. He seized the bottle of lube confidently, uncapping it and coating his forefinger and middle finger generously. He searched for Castiel's eyes and once their affectionate glances clashed, he found nothing but commitment there.

With a flustered inhale he braced himself for the pain he was about to cause this precious being; he knew it was a part of lovemaking, first came the searing sting, then the overflowing rapture... Castiel screwed his eyes shut and splayed his legs subtly, giving Dean permission to prepare him and hurt him. Dean tried to compose himself, though he was almost chocking on his breaths, nothing but captivated by the wistful mask Castiel's face was wearing. Only half aware of his deeds he pushed Castiel's thighs apart and let his fingers seek for his entrance, besmearing the area with a decent amount of lube while his eyes were transfixed on Castiel's tense form. His nerve endings were whirring busily, his erection was growing almost bursting hard, as he carefully breached the tight ring of muscles, letting his forefinger dip inside. The scorching hot muscles were squeezing his invasive finger somewhat unyieldingly and Dean clenched his jaw as he penetrated Castiel further, forcing his way inside.

His lover was cramping, his brow was furrowed, his fingers were clutching the bedsheet tightly so that his knuckles stood out whitely. Tentatively Dean started rotating his finger in little circles, stretching the other ever so tenderly that his tension was only short-lived. A small, knowing smile came to Dean's lips as he let his second finger glide smoothly inside, feeling Castiel breaking open for him. The dark-haired man was increasingly lolling on the bed, lewd, high-pitched moans escaped his gaping mouth. By the time Dean thrust his third finger inside, Castiel was throwing his head from side to side, whimpering and arching his back to welcome Dean deeper within him. His instinct told Dean to curl his fingers upwards, and as he did so he felt the twitching nerve bud - Castiel winced violently, an aroused cry ringing within the confines of the room. Startled by the impossible wave of lust, Dean repeated the motion, thirsting for hearing that unfiltered sound of pure delight once more as he pressed his fingertip mercilessly against that sweet spot. His mouth was agape and sweet terror clouded his thinking when he examined Castiel's body shaking and writhing electrified, how a layer of sweat was forming on his naked form – the moans and needy whimpers echoed in Dean's head, filled him with a sore feeling to lose himself in his lover's body at long last.

Castiel must have thought the same thing; although he was struggling to open his eyes he withstood Dean's gaze with an equal feverish one, his hand reached out for Dean's wrist and held it still, while the other hand fumbled around with the packet of condoms, shaking one condom out skilfully. Dean regarded Castiel opening the foil with a concentrated frown, then he smiled when blue eyes darted over his face hesitantly; in an instant his partner started draping the slippery condom over Dean's upright standing length, unfurling it with a pleasant squeezing palm. A hot frisson of excitement took over Dean and he snatched Castiel by the hips and pulled him towards his cock, enjoying how effortlessly he found the ardent hole, dripping with lube. Castiel's hands were everywhere, tugging at Dean's back of the head to bring their foreheads together, gliding over his back to stroke the delve of his spine absentmindedly. Their moist, erratic breaths collided, Dean was looking deeply into Castiel's eyes. With care he dived into the narrow tunnel, jerking when the tight muscles clung around his throbbing length mercilessly.

He heard Castiel's abrupt choked shriek of pain as Dean buried himself inside him until the hilt. They pressed their foreheads together desperately, trying to calm the other wordlessly. Dean couldn't remember the last time he had slept with someone mattering to him, so it was pretty breath-taking to be swept away by all these feelings overrunning him while his heart pounded wildly inside of him. For a few seconds they drew trembling breaths, their lips getting together in passionate, sloppy French kisses. He gave Castiel all the time in the world to get used to him; with relish he focused on the contusive heat around his throbbing erection, how Castiel slowly began to flex his abdomen's muscles subconsciously, bringing his lower body closer to Dean's.

The indentations of the ribbed condom were mind-blowing, how they squeezed every inch of Dean's cock teasingly, restricting his sore muscle; Castiel seemed to feel it to, for he was bringing his ass down constantly, so that the curves and each vaulting could tickle his hole voluptuously while he let Dean glide inside deeper and deeper. Mesmerized, Dean studied Castiel's blissful face, how enraptured he looked with his closed lids, his furrowed brow, as Dean tentatively starting thrusting into his tight, scorching hot tunnel. It didn't take long and his lover's legs were coming around Dean's waist, entwining their bodies further. Dean was becoming hooked on the desperate, quiet moans Castiel let loose, how they grew whiny and sometimes to aroused whimpers when Dean slammed into him ferociously.

The next time Castiel opened his lids a little, Dean was blown away by the stormy fire dwelling in the blue, dilated eyes, how knowingly and untamed they observed him through the barely opened slits. Dean's heart battered within his throat, he swallowed thickly, run over by his nervousness and hypersensitivity – he sensed Castiel crushing him from the inside with his muscles, milking him as a cheeky subtle smile crawled to his sinful lips. It was enough to make Dean lose his mind finally. In a trice he grasped Castiel's butt cheeks savagely and pulled him towards him, letting his ass rest on Dean's lap – the angle was perfect to dive into him, and as he did so brutally and with a horrendous pace, the smile on Castiel's lips vanished instantly.

Instead, he was tearing his mouth open, it was trembling with mute screams that left him as he threw his head back. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head so that Dean could see their white, omnipresent colour. He was utterly exposed to Dean as he allowed him to split him in two. Castiel was gasping for air, and Dean felt terribly short of breath too while he watched the heaving chest splayed out before him. Each time he glided swiftly into the hot, devilish good narrowness, he sensed he was brushing Castiel's sweet spot, so it was reasoned that Castiel twitched and winced and cried out in the sheets uncontrolled; his legs jerked, Dean saw his lids flutter – then Castiel arched his back with a loud moan and rode Dean's thrusts mindlessly. Their bodies moved together effortlessly as if they had never done anything else.

Blunt fingernails scraped over Dean's torso and hips, seeking comfort and sympathy as Castiel began to spiral towards his climax. He was constricting around Dean, Dean felt the stutter of his partner's hips, how erratic his breaths became, how heart-wrenching his moans and sighs sounded... Time had come to a standstill the moment Castiel opened his eyes strainedly, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of the penetrator's waist while Dean kept slamming into him relentlessly. A fierce blush spread on the dark-haired man's chest and cheeks, crawled up his throat. He screwed up his eyes and hot streams of white slippery come suddenly spurted out of his erection, besmearing his abdomen and torso at irregular intervals. He was shaking and lolling underneath Dean, moaning lewdly as the orgasm washed over him. The sight alone would have been enough to get Dean off too, but on top of that Castiel's insides were _squeezing_ him ever so sweetly, seducing him to ejaculate, so he couldn't help but drown in pleasure as well. Slain by waves of lust he fell onto Castiel and wrapped his arms protectively around him as they held on to each other, cramping and rutting together as they enjoyed their climaxes and the feeling of being so intimate with one another.

When their bodies came down, Dean heard their unsteady breaths, how they both panted quickly. Subconsciously he had hidden his face in the crook of Castiel's neck, the area was already moist and hot due to his exhales. Castiel's arms were around him, his palms stroking his back absentmindedly; there were a thousand brief kisses pressed against his sweaty temple, damp breaths entered his ear and caressed his jawline incessantly. Unwilling to let go and to end this precious moment, Dean collapsed on his lover completely, staying inside of him just for a while longer, and Castiel let him remain there wordlessly.

**TBC**

Sooo, what do you say? Please bear with me, writing the first real sex scene in a story always upsets me, so usually the next ones are better *grumbles a little* Let me know what you think! =) Oh, and happy birthday, Dean! :-P 


	23. Chapter 23

Hello darlings! Are you still around? See at the end for author's notes! This chapter was beta-read by the lovely Angelphoenixwings14, who proofread it thoroughly! Thanks a million times, hun! You keep saying I'm improving, but I must admit I was a bit lazy editing this chapter last time. I'll never grow tired of reading (no comma) or seeing inserted commas XDD

Warning, LOSA! Lots of smut ahead!

**Chapter 23**

Though it was broad daylight, and even though the hot spring's sun was still shining vibrantly, it didn't bring back the prior passionate heat that had awoken between their bodies; it was gone all too quickly. Bereaved of the warmth, their limbs soon felt too chilly, so Dean gently pulled back and released Castiel, deciding it was time to let go. His lover remained with his ass placed on Dean's lap, he smiled softly at him while Dean unrolled and knotted the used condom carefully. It hit Dean hard in the chest as he regarded the loveable smile gracing this angelic being in front of him, how utterly satisfied and relaxed Castiel appeared. A slight layer of sweat dabbled his blushed skin, formed small drops on his temple and forehead. Castiel ran his own fingers through his dark hair as he let Dean deposit his legs considerately, his eyes never leaving the older man's. It shook Dean to the very foundations to be exposed to these knowing, pensive eyes, for he felt they were aware of his every thought. And even though they had just had sex, he couldn't help but feel even more stripped, as if Castiel was gently clawing at his soul to see behind the curtain. Not that Dean wanted or had to conceal anything from Castiel any longer...

He flopped down unceremoniously beside Castiel, rolling on his side immediately; Castiel mirrored his movements mutely. For a tense moment they studied each other's face, examining the change and the rumination taking place behind the carnal mantle. At some point, Castiel sat up briefly and carpeted them with a soft duvet, hiding their naked bodies somewhat. A subtle smirk loomed on his pink lips and Dean felt light-headed, overwhelmed with confusing emotions. Then Castiel took his right hand gently in his, intertwining their fingers. It was impossible to tear his eyes away from Castiel, Dean was tantalized by his hauntingly ethereal beauty. It pleased Dean beyond imagination that he had given relief and love to the barely smaller man; he could read in the expression of his blue gems how much their intercourse had meant to him. At this thought, Dean shuddered lightly because his heart boomed swiftly inside him, screaming at him how much it had mattered to him too. His throat corded up with overflowing joy and Castiel squeezed his hand mildly, his smile became mellow.

"Do you still think we're doing this on a whim?" the dark-haired man asked quietly, faintly, and a torch of amusement danced in his eyes vividly. Behind those eyes and the pains the other had to go through within his last years, there still was an invincible mirth, resting there patiently; Dean thought he wanted to take a page from his book, learn a thing or two. The answering smile came easily to his mouth, and as it came, he sensed it was gaining strength, and suddenly he was filled with such a lightness, so much so that his head was swimming. He assumed this was what it felt like to be completely in love and happy on top of that... What a glorious sensation to be suffused with...

He shook his head in denial and clasped Castiel's hand firmly, returning the affectionate pressure a little. He remembered a conversation he and Castiel had had a few weeks ago, how Castiel had explained to him he wanted the next time he slept with someone to bear meaning. Dean felt his insides tremble, he was itching to ask Castiel, and yet he was nervous and uncertain whether he wanted to know the answer. Before he could stop his mouth, it was already speaking the words that had rested on the tip of his tongue – his heart beat wildly in his chest, permeated with the aching desire to know where they were standing, what all of this meant. So he gave in to his greedy heart to soothe its passion.

"Did this... did this uhm... mean something to you?" he questioned hesitantly, averting his eyes, embarrassed. He wanted to appear untouchable and nonchalant, but he simply couldn't disguise how important it was for him to know Castiel reciprocated his feelings. After having him like this, Dean was sure he needed more; he wouldn't be able to content himself with a mere fling. Castiel snuggled up to him wordlessly and wrapped an arm around Dean's hip under the blanket – Dean felt the warmth of his body envelop him, how their naked chests almost touched intimately. Still, he didn't dare look up, though he felt the moist exhales of his lover fanning against his bottom lip repeatedly with how close Castiel's face was to his. Dean's hair stood on end, and a hot shiver ran through him. He turned into stone when Castiel pecked his lips sweetly, again and again, leaning into him trustfully. Their legs entangled; Dean savored the taste of Cas' pliant mouth and his hitched breathing, he devoured every tiny kiss passionately.

Castiel pulled away gently and pressed his forehead against Dean's. At long last, Dean raised his eyes to him and drowned in the clear lavender-blue for a second – the tenderness with which Castiel beheld him was too much to endure, especially combined with the way Castiel's fingers dug into the soft flesh of his hip, pulling him closer and closer, bringing their naked bodies together naturally... Dean's breaths stuttered, his heart leapt into his throat, as he succumbed to the steady, confident look Castiel gave him. How weird to be put under his spell so easily. There was nothing Dean could do about it, he didn't even want to try to escape Castiel's charm. It did him good to be looked at like this, like he was the most important person on this planet.

"It means a lot to me," Castiel admitted, and though he smiled lovingly, an upset notion flickered in the back of his eyes, unsettling Dean a wee bit. Before he knew what was happening, Castiel had flung his arms around him and squeezed him ardently, chuckling quietly into Dean's ear – then he became absolutely still and held Dean tightly. For a dizzying second, Dean thought he could hear Castiel's vehement heartbeats racing in his torso, hammering against his own ribcage. It was an unknown sensation to be held like that, but Dean shook inwardly with boiling pleasure, for he felt nothing but accepted and loved in this long-lasting embrace. He smiled hesitantly to himself as Castiel peppered his ear shell, temple and exposed throat with countless, airy kisses, caressing him fondly.

It didn't take long, and Dean felt subdued by the instating heat and the pleasurable knowledge that he had arrived in Castiel's arms at last. As his heavy lids closed and as his head sank deeper into the pillows, he thought how wonderful it might be to spend every day at Castiel's side. Rationality was far away. It gave way to phantasms and half awake dreams during a silken, short slumber.

…

When Dean awoke around the late afternoon, the sun shone hotly into Castiel's bedroom. It took him a few moments to orientate himself. He felt a sticky, wet warmth resting against his upper body, soft strands of hair tickled his nose. And that was when he realized what the source for all these confusing things were – Castiel laid widespread on him, his meager weight was barely affecting Dean except that he thought it felt strangely cozy. What bothered him a little more was his dry throat and the awful, scorching heat increasing between their bodies more and more – he as well as Castiel were sweaty, their naked chests pressed together intimately, mingling their thin films of perspiration. By the looks of things, Castiel was still soundly asleep. Dean smiled somewhat amused when he heard the faint noises of snoring. It was simply endearing to hear the steady grunt and his lover's soft, shallow breaths, puffing against his throat constantly.

Dean couldn't restrain his hands; the body on top of his was plainly irresistible. He sensed the front of the smaller man's thighs pressing against his, how their hipbones were slightly connected as Castiel lay between Dean's spread legs. Even their ankles were hugged together... Oh so gently Dean placed his hands on Castiel's overheated back, sensing the smooth skin underneath his fingertips. Castiel twitched unconsciously in his sleep and the snoring stopped for a second, but he was still asleep when Dean gave way to his increasing desire – cautiously he stroked the length of Castiel's well-defined, slim back, letting one fingertip ghost over the curvy line of his vertebra. Lust prickled in the depth of his lower stomach, he heard his own exhales hitch shakily. Greed awoke within him like a wild beast, urging him to eat his fill of the attractive man so close to him. There was no way he was already sated through one passionate coition, he needed more... more... Hell... he would get more.

His dick was already pounding ferociously as the blood pumped through the muscle, stiffening it and making it rock-hard. He bit on his lower lip and stifled a wrecked, low moan as he started cupping Castiel's perfect ass cheeks. Slowly he pulled them open and let his fingertips sneak into the sweaty crack lewdly. He couldn't contain the lengthy, whimpered sigh that escaped him as Castiel's hips darted forward unconsciously and crushed against his pelvis, applying sweet pressure to his growing erection. He squeezed the round, firm ass with both hands and brought their hips together again, rutting against his lover from below. His right forefinger felt its way tentatively, finding Castiel's puckered, igneous hole almost immediately. Castiel squirmed in his awakening state and moaned high-pitched when Dean dared to shove the tip of his forefinger so very carefully inside, testing the water. His other hand pulled his left cheek further apart so that he could easily let his finger glide inside deeper and deeper. Oh God...

Because of the stutter in Castiel's breathing and the feathery, little kisses on his throat, he realized Castiel had somewhat woken up. The smaller man shifted a bit so that he could suck on Dean's sensitive neck hardly. Dean froze in his motions; underneath the duvet he suddenly felt Castiel's thick, pulsating dick depressing on his abdomen, jerking against him uncontrolled. Hesitantly, Dean rotated the finger he had completely buried in his partner by now, loving how Castiel responded to his moves intuitionally, rolling his hips along the slow thrusts of Dean's fingers. He wordlessly allowed him to fuck him gently with one finger while the dark-haired man gnawed at Dean's protruding collarbone intently. The air was sizzling with palpable tension; Dean's head was swimming maddeningly. The heat... oh the squeezing, narrow heat of Castiel! Enveloping his bold finger, welcoming him inside... The tip of Dean's cock leaked with slippery pearls of precome, soaked Castiel's tummy generously. Everything inside of him was thunder and lightning, he felt dizzy with need. With a sudden vehemence, he dragged Cas' left ass cheek apart, bringing his middle finger to his hole in addition.

He felt Castiel tense up and take a deep breath as Dean slowly shoved his second digit inside, touching him in the most intimate way. He kissed the ruffled mop of raven black hair hovering in front of his field of vision, giving Castiel a little moment to adjust to his intrusive fingers. Then he initiated a steady, powerful pace, pulling his fingers almost completely out only to ram them back in again. He heard Castiel whine above him and his upper body slumped down instantly. Dean felt a sweaty forehead pressing against his shoulder as he continued pleasing him, free from restraints. So very close to his ear hot, moist breath wafted towards him, warming his skin up even more. Soon Castiel was panting swiftly, his quiet sighs had turned into agonized moans and he pushed his ass down repeatedly, urging Dean to touch him deeper, to explore his insides more detailed.

A shuddering, long breath left those sinful, plump lips at once and every of Castiel's movements stopped. Sluggishly, he uplifted his head, raising his eyes to Dean's – and Dean was struck hard by the mere sight, his heart skipped a beat. Castiel's dark hair framed his fine features, there was a wild, spirited flame burning in his eyes ardently as the sun's light refracted in the two gems. He looked beautiful, terrifying and feverish. His cheeks were tinted in a rosy color, swollen lips parted and dark red. It was the first time they truly looked at one another after they had made love a few hours ago. Dean understood he was wholly captured by the person crouching on him; his fingers were deeply hidden within him, his dick was somewhat squished by the other's backside. A knowing, untamed glint came to Castiel's dilated eyes. Dean barely had time to process what was happening, but Castiel sat up and turned around, stark-naked and painfully erect, but unperturbed by it. He lowered himself confidently on Dean's stomach, so that his back was facing the older man – right in front of him was Cas' seductive, well-formed butt. Confusion placed a frown on Dean's forehead as he worried what Castiel was up to.

Then he sensed nimble fingers covering his pounding length with another slick condom skillfully, unfurling it on his dick determinately. When Castiel slathered his cock with a decent amount of lube, giving it to him with a tight fist so that Dean was actually convulsing and sitting up slightly, Dean suddenly figured it out. The air was punched out of his lungs and his erection hardened even more, almost painfully, and his imagination ran free as he tried to picture Castiel's plan. Dumbstruck, he watched the younger man sit up so that he was kneeling, his ass hovering temptingly right over Dean's prepared cock. He could see how the layer of lube glistened in the setting sun's light, how his cock twitched in anticipation under the thin layer of the ribbed condom. Not even in his wildest dreams he had done this to Castiel. But the other lowered himself confidently, one of his hands enclosing Dean's dick, the other Dean couldn't see, but he assumed he was supporting his weight on the mattress. Dean gulped heavily, his heart leapt into his throat, as he observed how the tip of his length disappeared slowly in Castiel's tiny hole. The sensation was even more intense this time, now that he was seeing meticulously what he was carrying out.

On top of him Castiel whined high-pitched, Dean saw the muscles of his beautiful back protruding. Overwhelmed he put his hands around Castiel's waist and pulled him down, entering him inch per inch. His mouth was watering as he watched his cock vanishing in front of him, how it split Castiel's ass cheeks wide open. His lover threw his head back with a groan, one of his hand grasped Dean's thigh vehemently. Dean forced his way inside for the last few inches, feeling the initial tightness throbbing around him. God, he was already addicted to the sweet, squeezing muscles closing in on him. Subconsciously, his fingernails dug into the supple flesh of Castiel's hips once he was inside him until the hilt. The angle of this position caused the illusion that Castiel was even tighter and Dean even huger, and from the way Castiel leaned forward and bent down so that his back was curved made Dean assume Castiel was feeling it too. The urge to move became unbearable, so Dean arched his back a little, canting his hips so that he could thrust hesitantly into his partner. Castiel groaned feebly. Dean's heart was racing against his ribcage with hammering, insanely hectic beats, making him light-headed. He couldn't get over the sight in front of him; the lovely back crouched somewhat, Castiel's head hanging down, his ass cheeks framing Dean's cock so filthily...

All at once Castiel used the strength of his upper arms and straightened himself. He put his palms on the mattress right beside Dean's upper thighs and leaned onto them with his whole weight. Like this it was easy to let Dean slip out of him gradually. Mesmerized, Dean studied how Castiel let himself flop down on him again, welcoming his dick deep inside of him once more. From the way Castiel moaned loudly and totally bluntly, Dean supposed it was a good position for him, pleasing him torturously well – by now Dean knew that whole body shudder consuming the smaller man mercilessly, how it was accompanied by an impatient, demanding whimper. He could also feel it due to the way Castiel narrowed around him and squeezed him brutally: Dean was brushing his sweet spot each time Castiel lowered himself on him, allowing Dean to part his ass cheeks unyieldingly, sinking into him again and again. It didn't take long and Castiel was twitching erratically, riding Dean faster and faster. His moans became chopped off, his fingers seized Dean's thigh harder.

Nothing but alarmingly infatuated, Dean examined Castiel throw his head from side to side hectically, how his ass came down on him in quick, harsh intervals. The dark-haired man was yelling with pleasure by now, clenching around Dean further, better, harder. A wildfire spread inside Dean, he felt the first electric impulses traveling through his cock – under the structure of the condom, he was already completely slathered with his own precome. He felt he was close and Castiel was squeaking and sobbing by this time, his fingernails scraping over Dean's exposed thigh, sliding restlessly back and forth. Dean heard his own surprised sob of relief; unwittingly, he sat up as his orgasm overran him, shoving himself remarkably deep into Castiel's fervent heat. Overwhelmed, he saw Castiel's torso fall down, he heard the other cry out between pleasure and pain, then he was trembling and convulsing around him unrestrainedly.

In awe Dean witnessed how his lover writhed in the aftermath of his climax, flexing and bowing down so that his shaking body was slowly letting go of Dean's slackening cock. He saw the mess his flattening erection was, the condom shining wetly, and he could see the rivulets of his come underneath, running down his length towards the base. With a groan Castiel sat up and released him fully, then he turned around. He knelt before Dean, right between his spread legs, and a twitchy tiny smile came to the younger man's mouth. He was breathing hard, his cheeks were tinted in a rosy red; his hair was in chaos, as were the expression of his glassy, hazy lucid irises. His own come was spread all over his lower stomach blatantly, and he seemed so serene, so satisfied... Spellbound, Dean regarded him stooping over him gently, then he shut his lids as Castiel kissed him hard and thoroughly. Pins and needles coursed through his system, sparks of passion awoke between them. He tilted his head and deepened the kisses, getting lost in their raw fervor.

In an instant, their kisses stopped, and Castiel collapsed with his dead weight on Dean, apparently not giving a damn about besmearing his body with his cooling off come as well, nor that Dean was still uncomfortably enveloped in a slick condom. For the moment, Dean decided to not care about it either – instead he engulfed the smaller man in an affectionate hug, squeezing him ardently. They were both still wheezing and moaning faintly, savoring the remembrance of their highs.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist...," Dean said all at once; he started to rethink his animalistic behavior, and he felt somewhat guilty for catching Castiel so unaware – It wasn't like he had given him much of a choice. He was distracted from these interwoven thoughts when Castiel scoffed amusedly in his arms, kissing his crook of the neck pensively, lengthily.

"Did I sound like I complained?" Castiel retorted, and Dean practically felt the smug grin against his skin. Suddenly bliss and merriment filled him and he heard himself laugh heartily, and then he pressed Castiel tight against his chest, holding him there while he studied the art of feeling so light and happy. Everything apart from them in this moment seemed like a irrelevant trifle, nothing was as important as the two of them, sticky and sweaty and spent, as they lay here entangled in Castiel's bed. Listening to the soft thuds of their combined heartbeats, attentive to the other man's labored breathing – Dean thought he could actually hear the moved smile in the sound of Castiel's exhales, how his heart lapsed for a brief moment. Then Castiel melted completely on top of him, becoming boneless and heavy in his arms. A long time must have passed until they finally got up and left the bed, the sun had already disappeared beyond the fine line of the horizon.

They sauntered to the bathroom hand in hand, exchanging wary smiles and knowing, cheeky side glances until Dean felt he had trouble breathing around Castiel. For the second time since they had met they shared the shower again, devoting themselves to soaping the other caringly while white steam emerged from the water jet. Dean thought he could get used to the way Castiel admired his body, how his hands traveled over the length of his chest, arms and stomach absentmindedly. He, on the other hand, couldn't stop caressing him lightly, running a hand through the black wet hair tenderly, stroking over the boney hills of his shoulders. It didn't take long – just a confirming look they gave one another, then Castiel took a step forward – and they embraced, putting their arms around each other's naked back protectively. Dean hid his face against Castiel's throat, and could feel him doing the same. Only when he held him like this or when they made love he felt complete; it was like a half of him was missing when he didn't feel Castiel in his arms. He had gotten dependent on him quicker than he would have thought, and more than he liked to admit. He wanted to declare every of his innermost thoughts to his lover, he wanted to show him how much he needed him, how much he wanted this to last. But no words came over his lips, and he just held Castiel tighter, hoping his body would convey some of his feelings.

…

Dean knew he was ridiculously clingy today, but neither he nor Castiel seemed to mind. It appeared that ever since they had overstepped that last physical mark, their bond was even more profound. As if they couldn't stop touching and feeling when the other was still close, still near to their own body...

Castiel prepared a light dinner for them, he was cooking a vegetable stir-fry Dean wrinkled his nose at snidely; while the green stuff simmered and while the rice cooked animatedly in the other pot, Dean laid his arms around Castiel's middle tenderly. He couldn't help kissing his pale neck again and again, tasting Castiel's own flavor underneath the remnants of the shower gel... His hands crawled tentatively under the azure shirt Castiel had donned, stroking his stomach and abdomen mindlessly. Castiel sighed unevenly and inclined his head, leaning it against Dean's temple cozily. For a while they just stood there in the quiet kitchen, breathing each other in... Dean cherished holding Castiel like this, to feel his comforting warmth and his appreciative sighs as Dean continued caressing his upper body lovingly.

When the meal was ready, they moved to the living room and sat down on the comfortable couch, holding their filled plates on their tucked up knees. The TV showed an old comedy series from the nineties, it was accompanied by artificial laughter. The flickering, multi-coloured light of the TV was the only light source in Castiel's flat – apart from the white, strong light of the full moon. Its rays fell softly through the windows, creating subtle black shadows. Outside the starry night had overthrown the sun's firmament. Dean felt immensely calm and at ease as he sat here, munching the meal (which didn't taste bad at all) with relish as he studied Castiel's peaceful face cautiously, secretly. It felt as if they were caught in a timeless bubble, as if all of this was a dream from an alternative universe – a fickle moment, a gift that had been given to Dean as an exception. Somehow he knew it would end and that he couldn't do anything about it, so he valued the togetherness he could share with Castiel even more. Castiel noticed Dean's stare at some point and gave him a serene smile – his deep blue eyes reflected the moon's light brightly, Dean found he couldn't hold his own mesmerized smile back.

"Stop looking at me like that," Castiel murmured feigned sulkily, then he placed his empty plate on the coffee table in front of him. Dean mirrored his deed and grinned cheekily at his lover.

"I do what I want, when I want and how I want. And right now I want to look at you. It's a free country, right?"

Castiel scoffed and shook his head, an amused smile tugging at his mouth. He lay down on his back and placed his legs on Dean's lap nonchalantly.

"Don't be insolent with me," Castiel grinned, but Dean wasn't impressed; on the contrary, he bent over Castiel and slid between his legs, which Castiel opened for him trustfully. Enchanted by his lover's spell, Dean cupped his right porcelain cheek, his thumb stroked over the mere stubble tenderly. He admired the given sight silently, how Castiel looked up into his eyes, a soft expression written all over his features. His blue orbs were practically gleaming with love, and Dean found him unearthly gorgeous; so he leaned down and kissed him over and over again, letting their lips rest on each other for a lengthy moment, only to lunge forward again and claim more of him.

His taste was sweet and addictive, the structure of his pliant mouth pressing against Dean's made his head swim. His hand developed a life of its own, as it ghosted over Castiel's throat, slowly wandering down to the back of his head. He fisted the smooth dark hair feverishly and brought Castiel's head closer, so that their kisses became more intense, passionately. Castiel hummed into his mouth, their tongues met and danced with each other skillfully. A pleasant fire came to life in Dean's chest, he found himself moving seductively against his partner's abdomen.

Castiel broke abruptly away from him, breathing irregularly – Dean looked down at him and detected his eyes were already dilating, his lips were swollen and glistening seductively. Castiel smiled subtly at him and wrapped an arm around Dean's back lovingly.

"I would love another round, but I fear I'm a little sore. It's been a long time since... well, you know," Castiel declared with a hoarse voice quietly, averting his eyes somewhat ashamed. Dean was having none of it. The part of him that took care of others, the one that gave and gave willingly, awoke, and with it an omnipresent hunger arrived. He pecked Castiel's lips and felt him respond eagerly despite his doubts; then Dean withdrew and crawled down from the couch to his knees. Castiel examined his face with a bewildered mien, but soon that mask of confusion left him, when Dean let one hand stroke over the length of his whole body. Desirously, he caressed the growing hard bulge hidden by Castiel's striped boxer shorts, biting on his lower lip to suppress a gut-wrenching moan.

He saw the effect his gentle touches had on Castiel, how twitchy and restless the other became, slowly rotating his hips along to the constant up and down movements of Dean's palm. Through half-closed eyes Castiel looked at him; his lids were heavy with lust, irises fully blown by sensual blackness. Dean saw him gulp heavily, then how his lips parted and a soft moan rang out. His chest was heaving with deep, tremulous breaths... Sparks flew busily between them, the air felt rarefied. Dean's head was swimming as he leaned forward and whispered against Castiel's moist lips, feeling his breathing hitch nervously.

"Let me take care of you... I'll make up for the soreness I caused...," he spoke against those trembling lips, and Castiel's lids fluttered shut. He groaned and arched his back, pressing his growing erection further into the warm tightness of Dean's palm. One hand came around Dean and he felt his lover's fingernails scraping over the shirt's texture helplessly.

"I'll let you do whatever you want," Castiel whispered agitatedly, moving his mouth temptingly close alongside Dean's. A surge of lust splashed over Dean, and he brought his lips to Cas' and kissed him longingly, applying a fine amount of pressure to unravel him and make him sob with want. The fingernails on his back dug into his flesh painfully, and he intensified their kisses, almost bruising those soft petals with his eagerness. Castiel became rigid and as moldable as wax simultaneously as Dean shoved the fabric of his boxer shorts down unceremoniously, not breaking their wild kisses. Castiel wiggled out of his shorts and they fell to the ground beside Dean. The older man tore at Castiel's firm thighs playfully, smirking into their paused kiss when Castiel's legs came around Dean's waist.

Their kisses came to an end and Dean beheld Castiel sitting on the couch in front of him, appearing somewhat flustered and anxious as he was presenting his lower naked half to Dean so blatantly. A reassuring hand of Dean's came to rest on the flexing abdomen, he gently pushed the shirt upwards so that he could reveal Castiel's taut stomach to the bluish, silvery moonlight. The rays of light underlined each curve of bones and muscles, created gray shadows in the delves of his pecs and sides. Dean's mouth watered, a greed he couldn't control overpowered him, and he leaned forward and pressed open-mouthed kisses on the enticing torso. He gnawed, he bit, he sucked and left dark bloody hickeys, and Castiel squirmed underneath him and whimpered lewdly, buckling his hips upwards to let his hard cock rut against Dean's chest.

Determinately Dean grabbed Castiel's lower legs and put them on his shoulders, then he let go of the torso he had wrecked, looking up into Castiel's flushed face briefly. He directed his attention to Castiel's painfully erect cock, how it twitched uncontrolled, beads of precome were sliding down to the hilt. A sudden fever pitch got the better of Dean, and he seized Castiel's perfect, firm butt cheeks and lifted them up, Castiel was moaning in surprise. Dean's heart pounded rapidly inside of him, he was dizzy with arousal, the moment he recognized Castiel's reddened hole quavering oddly in front of him; the muscle was clenching and unclenching, and before he knew what he was doing, he stuck his tongue out and let it lick over the sore area.

Above him Castiel squeaked with pleasure, one shaky hand clutched Dean's hair brutally and pulled at it feverishly. Spurred on by this reaction, Dean repeated the movement; he used the breadth of his tongue to wet the sensitive skin, feeling Castiel's whole body shudder. All of it was warm and moist and oh so intimate, it made Dean's head spin. He was driven mad by his own lust when he dared to let the tip of his tongue breach the rim of Castiel's hole, gently forcing his way inside that narrow tunnel. He would never forget the sound Castiel made in that moment; it was a sound of pure relief, and Dean felt him opening up for him, so that he could shove his whole tongue deeper into him. He sensed the subtle pressure of Castiel's hand on the back of his head, urging him to continue whatever it was he was doing, because, apparently it was good.

He withdrew his tongue slowly, before he thrust it in as deep as possible, rotating it in small circles. Castiel's insides were so scorching hot, he already loved how the other was tightening around him, keeping him in place. Dean initiated a wary rhythm, pulling his tongue out and shoving it deep inside again and again, licking at the sidewalls of Castiel's hole teasingly. He pulled his ass cheeks far apart so that he had more latitude, whereupon Castiel whined high-pitched. With gentle force he uplifted Castiel' ass further so that he could penetrate him better, and due to the new angle, he found the rippled, delicate nerve bud inside of him.

Curiously he squeezed that bud with the tip of his tongue and Castiel jerked fitfully, his hips stuttered forwards.

"Deaaann...," Castiel whined, holding on to his head harder. Dean couldn't care about the lust-driven creature he became whenever Castiel reacted this unrestrained, when his breathing sounded so labored, his moans and whines so close to the edge... He licked against that sensitive spot with more force, hearing his own swift panting resounding in his ears. Castiel moaned raggedly and thrust his hips into the air when Dean let his tongue rest inside him and tickled his spot with the littlest movements of his tongue. Castiel shuddered and whimpered, lolling above Dean on the couch unknowingly. A wayward hand of Dean's ghosted over the inner side of Castiel's upheaved thigh, then he let his fingers massage the aroused slit between his ass cheeks. He could feel the tension building up in his lover, how his orgasm seethed in his very veins, conveying madness and pleasure easily.

All at once Castiel's insides clutched Dean's tongue vehemently and Castiel winced violently; alarmingly wanton moans cut through the air as Dean buried his tongue as deep as possible inside, playing with Castiel's weak spot incessantly. He felt the climax running through Castiel like a powerful tidal wave, shaking his body to the core, rattling at his foundations. With another frantic roll of his hips, Castiel rode the last surge of his height, then Dean pulled his tongue out gently and Castiel collapsed on the sofa with an exhausted, low moan. The given sight made Dean's chest tighten with tenderness and admiration: Castiel was all slackened and loose-limbed,and his cheeks were as red as a beetroot. His agape mouth was gasping for breath, his dirtied up torso was heaving with deep, shuddering inhales. The embers of Dean's weakening passion possessed him, and he tilted his head and licked the streams of Castiel's come tenderly away, cleaning him up fondly. Castiel sighed softly, quietly, and ran a hand through Dean's hair slowly. The next time Dean looked up he saw endless devotion shining in his lover's glassy eyes, the idea of a smile beautified his features.

"Better?" Dean asked with a cheeky smirk, but that brashness died within seconds as Castiel cupped his face and regarded him with a mellow glance.

"Better," he replied, and at long last they both chuckled lightly.

…

A few hours later they strolled to Castiel's bedroom, falling into the sheets together. Because they had slept a while this afternoon, neither of them were exhaustively tired. Instead, they made use of the time with holding each other in intimate embraces and kissing each other breathlessly while the moon cut its way through the nightly sky. Castiel was the first to fall asleep, and Dean didn't know how many minutes or hours passed, he could never tell in Castiel's company – but he looked his fill of the other sleeping man quietly, hearing his own heart thud with a gentle, vehement pace. A sentimental smile twitched around his mouth as he realized he would never tire of looking at Castiel. He listened to the silence of the night, accompanied by Castiel's steady, slow breaths. The bluish light lay down on the fine features and enhanced their angelic looks. Carefully, Dean brought his forefinger's tip to the parted ripe lips, brushing it gently over the smooth skin. His heart leapt into his throat when Castiel smiled a little in his sleep and moved closer subconsciously.

**TBC  
**

So, sorry I didn't update last week. I wanted this chapter beta-read, so I waited patiently for my lovely beta – whose awesome destiel AU / half canon story "Second Chances" you should totally read! Not a hint at all that you should post a new chappi, darling, not at all hahahaha Great plot, thrilling, hotness! Oh, and I've been told there was the Superbowl in the US? Come on, I'm a European! I don't know these things. On top of that, my ear is hurting since days *whines* (slight inflammation), and I've been struggling with chapter 28 for over a week now. I can better estimate how many chapters this story will have now – either 30 or 32! Once I've finished writing it, I think I will update quicker. Until then, let me know what you think! Oh, and brace for the next SPN hiatus -sobs-


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Dean woke up early this Sunday morning, the spicy chillness of dawn still lingered in the air. He didn't know what had gotten over him and Castiel this night, but Dean found himself sprawled out over the other man like a clingy octopus. Their limbs were chaotically entangled, a soothing warmth emerged from their bodies, and it was a welcome contrast to the rather cold air entering through the tilted window. One of Castiel's hands was situated on the back of Dean's head motionlessly, giving off steady heat. Very slowly and daringly, Dean raised his head to see if Castiel was still catching some zs.

The tranquil expression of his relaxed countenance overwhelmed Dean with a mind-blowing veil of infatuation: The pale sunlight caressed the plain, handsome face, a hunch of a hardly distinguishable smile played around his lover's pink mouth. Castiel's face looked golden, healthy and peaceful in the morning's light. It reminded Dean of buttercups blooming on a forsaken pasture, of sweet honey and crystal clear mountain rivers. For a moment, he heard his own breaths falter, he was absolutely hypnotized by Castiel's beauty and serenity. If he could pick a memory of him, he wanted to remember him like this. There was nothing affecting him, nothing that could hurt him, he was purely himself, uncovered and beautiful that way.

Dean knew Sam was waiting for him; they had arranged a meeting and time was elapsing already too quickly. So, with a heavy heart, Dean broke free from the epitome of his longings and gathered his scattered clothes. He dressed quickly and silently, his eyes darting to Castiel's sleeping figure time and again. When he was ready to go, he sat down cautiously next to Castiel, bringing a hesitant hand up to his calm face. Castiel winced when Dean's forefinger stroked along the stubbly cheek – with a frown, he opened his eyes and contemplated Dean's face hovering so close above his. Finally, a gentle smile came to his lips and he leaned into the warm palm Dean caressed his cheek with.

"What's going on? You're up early...," Castiel croaked, closing his eyes as if sleep conquered him again.

"Yeah, Sam and me have to make some investigations. I told him I'll be in my room in 20 minutes, so I gotta go...," he explained. His heart skipped a beat when he detected the slight grumpy mien his words had placed on Castiel's forehead, as if he was wordlessly protesting. He leaned down and pressed a lengthy, chaste kiss to Castiel's temple, hearing him hum appreciatively.

"I'll make up for it," he whispered and heard Castiel scoff. The next second a playful fist boxed him in the ribs.

"Yeah, you'll be sorry if you don't!"

Dean grinned and moved so that he could regard the mirthful gleam sparkling in Castiel's lavender-blue eyes. He bowed his head and brought their lips together, melting effortlessly against him as Castiel answered with the same ferventness. He tasted of warmth and sleep and so homely, it constricted Dean's throat with pleasure and pain. He opened his mouth and let Castiel take advantage of him, they were kissing eagerly and frantically. Before he could count to three, Castiel's hands fisted his hair and brought him closer; the other tilted his head to deepen their kisses, going limp against him. A sweet, aroused sigh of his lover made Dean's blood boil and he withdrew, breathing heavily. When he regarded Castiel again, he saw the light blush tinting his cheeks and how his eyes bore a teasing, amused nuance.

"Don't do that to me now... I really have to go...," Dean smiled friendly, and Castiel laughed and hit him with a small pillow against the head, making Dean laugh too. He figured he had one more minute to get his revenge, so he tickled Castiel's side sillily – in an instant, Castiel was writhing and kicking his legs with shrieks, laughing breathlessly. Dean showered his face with a thousand airy kisses and they both stilled to share a last, caring kiss. Dean felt like he was floating when he got up, his knees were weak, his legs wobbly. He looked back at Castiel lying in his bed so temptingly and plainly gorgeous. The intensifying golden sunlight covered the bare planes of his body, it appeared as if he was glowing with an inner light. Dean smiled gently at him, absorbing the fond smile Castiel gave him in return. Then he walked away to fulfill his duty.

…

After a quick shower and a sirupy amount of take-away pancakes, Dean sat on the passenger seat, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he listened to the sweet purr of his beloved Impala. Often his eyes flickered to Sam's legs accusingly, Dean knew he must have looked pissed off and sour. They were constantly driving on a country road, leaving the small towns behind.

"You know, I'll never get used to how brutally you shift gears. It hurts my heart, can't you hear her whine?" he grumbled at last, putting a broad grin on Sam's mouth.

"Shut it! You can't drive yet, so you'll have to accept my driving style! Better pay attention to the signals, I think we're only a few miles away."

Sam was right, though, so Dean monitored the D-EMF blinking energetically in his lap. It seemed to concentrate on a northeasterly direction; one needle swung off with a repetitive short beep whenever Sam brought the car in the designated destination. Both Winchesters looked up and examined the area next to the route – it was woodland, interrupted by uncultivated, mossy-green spaces. No one seemed to live here. They drove past an old farm lane and the D-EMF went haywire. Sam slammed on the brakes, causing Dean to glare at him with reproachful eyes. Then he drove backwards and turned right. The stony, muddy path made the Impala buck uncomfortably and Dean held on to the door handle, cursing inwardly about the damage this would cause to his tires. Godforsaken countryside.

Their instincts were alarmed and sharp as they looked around and scrutinized the abandoned region. It could have been a trap after all. Dean heard his own accelerated breaths, he clutched the D-EMF tighter in his sweaty hands. His eyes examined the bushes and the surrounding trees, searching for figures, shadows, anything that could move. The road came to an end and Sam switched off the engine. The silence was only punctuated with the persistent beep of the device in Dean's hand. It had reached its highest scale, so Dean turned it off. This was the place where all the activity came from, no doubt.

They got out of the parked car and glanced around mutely, searching for a sign of something odd. Not even birds chirped here, it was altogether a little too quiet to be safe. Dean thought he saw something glimmering through the thick green of the grove. A ray of the sun struggled through a dark cloud and enlightened whatever it was he was seeing. It looked almost like stone... or marble, it was hard to tell. He clicked his tongue and tilted his head at Sam, pointing at the direction – it was a few hundred meters away, maybe three hundred. A lot could happen on this short way. In an unspoken agreement, they wandered around the car to the trunk, getting flasks of holy water, ammunition, rock salt and knives and guns. Then they stepped into the woods, leaving the untended path behind.

Branchlets and dry leaves cracked and rustled quietly under their boots. With long, careful strides they approached the object, which was obviously in the middle of a clearing. Dean looked around constantly, making sure no one was here, that they were safe. He saw Sam doing the same, holding his rifle with a tight grip. Better safe than sorry. John's words resounded in Dean's head like a ghostly whisper. Even after his death, he could still hear him. He compressed his lips and kept going. Better safe than sorry, better safe than sorry...

With as much attentiveness as they could muster, they set foot on the glade, and Dean's breaths stopped for a second. It looked like a shrine, like some holy relic they had found. The bright green of the surrounding trees created an ethereal light, the sun shone on the marble stone as if it was saying "Here. Here is what you've been seeking". Dean and Sam exchanged bewildered looks because... what _was it_ they were seeing? It looked like a monument, like a crypt maybe. About four meters wide and two or three meters thick. The stone was richly carved, some flowery ornateness covered it. The middle showed something that looked like a door... a gate, maybe. They stepped closer. Dean's assumption was confirmed when he saw the outlines of a gate, without a doubt. Above the wings of the marble door, a star had been chiseled precisely, it had a little cove in its middle.

Under the star were words and Sam and Dean both read them aloud pensively: "Samuel Colt"

It was in that moment that a tiny black spiral escaped a petty slit in the door – it seemed like one of the door's wings had been opened a wee bit. They both took a step back, giving each other confused looks, but keeping an eye on the black mist making its way into the air.

"What the hell is that? And what has Samuel Colt to do with it?" Dean asked without breath. He didn't like that snake of blackness coming out of the fair monument at all. It looked too much like something demonic.

Sam considered the delve in the cold, stony star further, wrinkles came to his forehead.

"Do you think The Colt plays a part in this? This monument reminds me of it, it's somehow the same style... But yeah, you're right... what _is_ this thing?"

"A hell's gate, you dumbo! The comfortable way to enter your world to lay it to waste!"

They turned around sharply, highly alert. Instinctively, Dean produced his weapon, though he assumed it wouldn't help him at all. A young woman dressed in jeans and black leather strut confidently over the clearing, giving them a wicked smile and salacious looks. From the depths of the forest, more and more shapes appeared, Dean tried to count swiftly. Three men to the left, two women to the right. All clad in leather and studded belts and bracelets and boots. They looked like a criminal biker gang and Dean would have laughed about the stupid cliche if the situation hadn't looked so bitter. They closed in on them, forming a circle. Their eye colors changed to black emptiness and Dean's heart leapt into his throat. He and Sam were standing back to back, circling with the danger in front of them.

"Any idea how to make an escape?" Sam whispered and Dean shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"Edging our way ahead, I guess. Take the holy water, you pummel the left side, I take the right side."

And that was about the only plan they could make in that moment. Things weren't exactly looking promising, and Dean felt his heart sink like a heavy rock in his guts. If they didn't make it out of here alive, at least he would die in a fight and at Sammy's side. With a cry, he lunged for the three demons he had picked, throwing fists and receiving punches in return. Knives cut him and he shot torsos and legs incessantly, slowing the demons down a bit. From the other side of the clearing, he could hear Sam do the same – their grunts and cries of pain mingled with those of the demons. The silence of the forest was replaced by the sounds of their fighting, cries of pain and the soft thuds of fists meeting flesh.

Suddenly, the female leader yelled: "Stop hurting Sam Winchester! It's Dean we're told to waste!"

Dean turned his gaze to Sam abruptly, all demons were making their way towards the older Winchester. Sam was panting and coughing blood, holding his tummy with a mask of agony. It was a heart-stopping moment when someone kicked Dean hard against the jaw and when he lost his balance. He tasted the metallic, sour taste of blood in his mouth, he felt giddy. He barely noticed how he hit the ground, but then there was a foot pressing against his throat and he gagged strainedly. A bold, huge musclehead smiled serenely at him while he looked down at him, intensifying the pressure of his boot enthusiastically. The group of demons stood around Dean, all wearing satisfied expressions on their faces as Dean felt the life running out of him with every second. A cloak of darkness came over him and he felt he would soon lose his conscience.

Finally, a sizzling noise filled the air, a few demons squeaked tortured. Sam ran into the group and boxed a few, he shoved others with his broad shoulders and fought like a fierce animal. He sprinkled the crowd of demons with holy water, taking the other forgotten bottle out of Dean's palm to repeat the process. The beastly creatures were holding their burnt faces, whimpering and cussing Sam. Though Sam seemed exhausted and bloody, he helped Dean stand up and together they ran as fast as they could, making use of the offered moment. Dean's lungs hurt and he was coughing little rivers of blood. His head hurt and his sense of balance was far away. He still couldn't run normally so he limped along, following Sam's racing legs.

Behind them, he could hear the demons reuniting again and taking up pursuit. They were advancing towards them quickly. Very quickly. Sam fumbled around with the car keys, they could already see the Impala. Only a few meters away. Hundred probably. Dean felt horrible stitches in his sides, one side of his ribs hurt terribly. No time to think about that now. He saw Sam's forehead was bleeding. Fifty meters. He heard the trampling of several boots. Cries of victory. Dean closed his eyes and focused on running, running was his only purpose if he wanted to live. They reached the Impala. He opened the passenger door and got inside, hearing Sam doing the same. He watched the demons approaching the forsaken country road inhumanly fast; Sam turned on the engine and drove backwards immediately, setting the car to a high tempo. The tires were screeching and Sam did a turn, jerking the wheel violently. Dean felt sorry for his baby but now wasn't the time for such thoughts.

They hit the road and Sam sped mindlessly, using all the horsepower the Impala could give. Dean looked back through the side mirror, recognizing six running black dots following them pointlessly. Inwardly, he said quick prayers, thanking their fate. They had escaped.

"Are you okay?" he gasped, holding his left ribcage. Ouch, some son of a bitch must have kicked him there a few times. It hurt like hell but he knew the difference between a broken rip and a bruise. He was lucky enough to have received only the latter. His eyes studied his younger brother beside him, searching for his injuries, but he soon comprehended the demons had rather went after him. What had their leader said? "It's Dean we're told to waste"? Sam had a black eye and a bruised lip. His shirt was sliced with the knives the demons had used... Small rivulets of blood soddened the shirt, but it weren't grave cuts. Nothing you couldn't patch up with a needle and thread.

"Yeah, considering... One of them caught me off guard and hit me in the guts, must have hit my solar plexus because I couldn't move for a while. How about you? You look the worse for wear."

With the back of his hand Dean brushed over his hurting forehead, checking his face in the adjustable mirror of the passenger seat. Alright, so he would have a nice shiner too, he could already see that. His lip was cut as well as were his cheeks, he could practically see the imprints of the knuckles of whomever had hit him. His rib was bruised, his whole upper body felt as if someone had wanted to stone him to death and then overrun him with a bulldozer. His throat ached somewhat, given that someone had tried to choke him with his boot... And his head pounded with a nasty pain, but that was it. Apart from all of these things, he was fine.

"I'll live," he muttered and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. He felt so exhausted...

…

They stormed into Sam's motel room all bloody and squirming with pain. Sam made Dean sit down on his bed while he got the remedies they called their medicine – a bottle of Jack for disinfection and drinking the searing pain away. Dean watched him work pragmatically and quickly, while he felt his own shoulders slump down listlessly. A bunch of strenuous thoughts occupied his mind, and none of them was too promising. He recalled the sudden attack of the demons and wondered what it was all about. His abrasions were sort of the last thing he was currently worried about. Sam knelt down in front of his older brother and handed him the bottle of bronze, burning liquid, and Dean took it and swallowed greedily. Heat expanded in his chest, his throat felt better, his head somewhat cleared.

He winced when Sam pressed one of his bear hands against Dean's bruised side, palpating the area with a concentrated frown. It hurt like hell and he moved away from Sam's prying hands. Sam scowled at him and Dean sighed, allowing the nuisance called his brother to proceed his checks. Obviously, it hurt so bad that desperate tears came to Dean's eyes whenever Sam applied gentle pressure to his left ribcage, but Dean had received more severe wounds in the last years. So he just gritted his teeth and took another few gulps of whiskey. Sam studied his features thoroughly, his thumb brushed over Dean's black eye carefully, testing the skin's structure. With a roguish, tentative smile Sam withdrew his hands and looked into Dean's eyes relentlessly.

"Your ribs aren't broken. Can't do anything about that shiner, will probably last a week or two. How's your throat?" he questioned Dean and Dean was on the verge of crying out in annoyance – Alright, so he wasn't in his best shape. The beat-down was the last thing he had needed on top of his healing, impaired leg. But Sam's fraternal care was something he just couldn't handle at the moment. He had other things to ponder about. He stopped Sam with a wave of his hand and mumbled "It's alright", taking another long gulp. Then he handed the bottle back to Sam, who drank in his turn, grimacing a little.

"What the hell happened back there? And what is a hell's gate? I think we're deep in the shit, and we need to figure this out before more demons find us. As you've heard, they have an itch for you, not so much me. Makes me the most wanted on Hell's list, I guess," Dean said, trying to put some humor into their rather gloomy looking situation. Sam beheld him with what Dean thought was a puppy dog look, and he knew his brother would burst out into some emotional speech any second now.

"We should call Bobby and ask him if he knows something. And I agree, we should get out of here as quickly as we can. I'm not too fond of demons either, and I don't need to see them beating the shit out of you. But... uhm... Dean, you know what that means, right? You've got to say goodbye to Castiel. We will stay as long as possible for you to heal up, I'm just saying you should prepare to end this asap. Okay?"

Dean averted his eyes and rubbed his neck, feeling nothing but torn to shreds. His heart sank to his boots, and he felt heavy with a weight that was impossible to bear. It was what he had been thinking about ever since they had laid eyes on the hell's gate out there in the deserted woodland. All of this was getting dangerous very quickly, and he was – always had been – a typhoon leaving destruction on his way, absorbing everyone around him into the storm clouds of his being. And who was he to expose Castiel to danger, simply because of his presence? Sam was right. He needed to keep sufficient distance from his lover. This meant he had to break off whatever bonds they had.

Dean didn't want Sam to see him cry, so he massaged the bridge of his nose and nodded – his throat was cramping with gut-wrenching misery, he thought he could barely breathe. He inhaled deeply, shakily, knowing he would soon lose his composure as the pain was slowly starting to overwhelm him. Sweet, gorgeous Castiel... Vivid images of him came to Dean's mind and he felt the first rivulet of a hot tear running down his right cheek. Sam's hand came down on Dean's shoulder and squeezed it compassionately. Dean could feel how he was trembling violently underneath his brother's hand.

…

The late afternoon transformed to an early, sunlit evening as Sam drove Dean back to the rehab-center, dropping him off near the park Dean had walked through so many times within the last weeks. He felt the grim mask he was wearing constantly as he waved at Sam driving away and when he turned around and hobbled forwards. His heart's thuds seemed harsh and monotonic, his every motion was robotic. His mind was set on one task only – he was beyond the phase of feeling pain, for the pain did no one good, it came to nothing but more pain. The firmament was a spectacle of golden and pink rays fighting for dominance, the sun was beginning to descend. Dean took a deep breath, steeling his nerves as Castiel's apartment complex came in sight. Only one laughable talk, then everything would be fine again. He just needed to get over with it, then he could return to the life he knew – the life he was supposed to lead. Inside of him, the usually controversial voices didn't even dare to disagree. Dean felt the tiniest ounce of hope – it would be easier when he was determined, when he wouldn't give in to what-if questions.

He entered the hallway and stood in front of Castiel's shut door. The silence rang in his ears. He felt absolutely not like himself when he raised his hand slowly and knocked at the door repeatedly. There was no going back now. All of a sudden, Dean's heart decided to be human again, and it raced and screamed and raged in his chest at a tearing space, protesting against his plan. He swallowed thickly, fighting against the upcoming pain. Castiel opened the door with the brightest smile Dean could think of – and his eyes... oh, his blue eyes contained such mirth and suaveness. And within the length of two seconds, the fine features fell oddly and changed into a baffled mask. Dean studied Castiel's eyes wandering all over his body and face, taking in the damaged appearance of his partner.

"What the hell happened to you?" Castiel asked without breath, trying to read the expression of Dean's pensive eyes. Dean couldn't help but smile a little, for it was glorious to be regarded that important – that someone cared so much about him that this person was deeply concerned about these mild wounds.

"Can we talk?" he counter-questioned, increasing the bewilderment of Castiel further. Dumbstruck, Castiel opened the door and let Dean in, walking to his sofa nonchalantly. He sat down and looked up to Dean expectantly – Dean allowed himself a moment to drink in the given sight and to enjoy it to the fullest. He didn't know when or if he ever saw Castiel this way again – so evened out and rather relaxed; so stunningly beautiful as the soft, dim light of the sundown enlightened his fine features and made his eyes glow eerily. He was wearing a navy blue T-shirt and black slacks, and Dean smiled fondly when he realized Castiel was barefooted. It just underlined how comfortable he was here, how perfectly he fit into this homely environment. Dean, on the contrary, hated to get rid of his boots or to undress – he often went to sleep fully clad – it was easier to make an escape like this. His father had taught them to always be ready, to always be suspicious and alarmed.

And here, in this silly moment – one moment, of which Dean knew that it would change everything mercilessly – the difference between their footwear made him see the overall image clearly, and he understood how he had lived in a dream for the last month. That this relationship had hardly any prospects to survive. They were two worlds that had collided and melded with each other. It had been more than Dean had ever dared to wish for, and it had changed him and brought out another side of him – but now they had come to the dead end of this track, and he needed to keep Castiel safe. It was the only sensible thing to do. Very slowly and cautiously, he strolled to the sofa and sat down next to Castiel, there was at least one meter of space between them. Castiel turned a little to face him, Dean did the same. When Dean's eyes met the endless blue gemstones, he found he couldn't hold back the onslaught of words any longer, so he began, and he didn't stop for a while.

Snippets of his monologue echoed in his head and created a tumult of whirring words while he explained and explained and while the twilight spread out between them, plunging the surrounding into light gray. Castiel was completely calm and said not a single thing, he heard Dean out with all the patience Dean could think of, and he was glad that Castiel made it so easy for him.

"You're aware of the way Sam and I live, that we're always on the road and hunting some evil sons of bitches. And lately things have become prettyhairy; Today we've been caught off guard by a group of demons, they're to blame for my new look. They're somehow after Sam and want to see me dead, and we don't know when they will reach this town. So... you see, we need to leave soon. We would have driven away within the next two weeks anyway. What I'm trying to say is... it was unfair of me to get involved with you. Especially under the premise I was only staying for a few weeks. I've... I've never thought things between me and you would evolve into this kind of relationship. Maybe I wouldn't have given in to temptation had I known back then what I know right now. The thing is that – whatever this is between us, it has to end, and I have to leave as fast as I can. Once I'm gone, you won't be in danger any longer. And you can return to the life you knew, and I'll do the same."

Dean had to stop as his throat constricted painfully and as his voice became weaker and weaker. He couldn't control the tears welling up in his eyes nor the odd tremble that had reached his fingers. Castiel still wasn't saying anything – it unsettled Dean, but it also anchored him somehow. Castiel's calmness was soothing. All at once, Castiel leaned forward and took Dean's shaking hand gently into his, holding it loosely as he contemplated Dean with a long, thoughtful gaze.

"What if I go with you? I will make myself useful."

Castiel's genuine proposal took Dean aback, for a second he thought his hearing was impaired. The seriousness lingering on Castiel's stern face overwhelmed Dean and confirmed what he had heard. Intuitively, he pulled his hand back and bile arose in his throat. Within the fleeting period of a second, he was furious and troubled at the same time. Just the mere thought of Castiel joining them and Castiel ending up hurt or dead because Dean had failed to rescue him... Castiel must have been delusional, he was probably romanticizing the life Dean and Sam were leading. He didn't hide the fact that he was thinking this way.

"I'm not your knight in shining armor, Cas! I can't offer you a better life here and ride off with you into the sunset. It would be bloody and dangerous and not glorious at all. It's really not safe! That's why I have to get away from you!" he spat out.

Now Castiel was losing his coolness as well – he sat up straight and his eyes were blazing with an unimaginable flame of wrath and despair.

"What do you think I am? A damsel in distress? I don't need you to save me! Do you really think I don't know what dangers I would be facing when I go with you? Do you really think I'm only searching for some sick sort of adrenaline rush?"

Dean was surprised by the vehemence of Castiel's outburst, but he assumed it was justified – maybe he had really underestimated him. Still, there was no chance he would risk Castiel's well-being or life to the utmost. Again, Castiel's hand searched for his, and in this moment of brooding silence, their fingers intertwined intimately, sympathetically, and Dean felt like crying. He let his head hang down and observed how Castiel's thumb stroked over the back of his hand repeatedly, offering comfort during their ongoing argument. Dean listened to Castiel's quiet breaths, lulled by their welcome sound that touched his heart deeply. Castiel spoke again, and this time his words were soft and picked with caution.

"Don't you remember what you said to me only last week? What I remind you of? _The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown, but longed for still, the caged bird sings of freedom?_ I don't wanna waste away my life here, I want to go with you. I refuse to be caged any longer. And you may say it's too dangerous, but not even you can know what perils will await you at the end of this road. I need to get out of here, during the last years I was barely alive, I was suffocating with each day, until I met you... Leaving with you is not some fancy idea I came up with only recently... _You_ are my adventure, and I want to be with you. Can't you see that?"

Dean felt fickle, dizzy even, as if Castiel's hand was the only thing that kept him in the here and now while his body was losing the relation to reality. Castiel's words made him cry mutely, his shoulders were slumped, his chest was shaking with painful tremors. He sobbed and cried without making a single sound – the way he had learned to cry when he was little, so that everyone thought he was doing okay when in reality he was losing his mind and drowning in his sorrows. How could Castiel do that? Talk to him in that way, as if he was still deserving these sweet compliments, his honest affection, his loyalty... Dean knew he wouldn't have had the same, deep understanding had their places been reversed. He would have probably punched Castiel's face. But here they were, and Castiel was offering Dean this great gift – to join them and remain at his side and help them, despite the multiple perils. How Dean was longing to agree and take Castiel with them – but he couldn't do this to Castiel. It would ruin his life. He would never be safe and sound again. And was their love worth that risk? Could Dean be so selfish? He didn't think so.

He breathed deeply, attempting to calm himself. Then he wiped over his face with the back of his free hand, ignoring Castiel's ongoing caresses of the tip of his thumb. He refused to look at him and allow weakness to enter his mind and heart.

"You don't have the same experience like Sam and me. You weren't raised to this life."

With this, the last drop of fuel was added to the fire of their conflict and Castiel became angry again, squeezing his next words out through gritted teeth. Dean could discern the bitterness and disbelief in his low voice.

"What, and I was raised to _this_ life? What do you think will await me when I stay here, Dean? What magnificent, incredible things? I will probably die of boredom and loneliness and worries about you! What if something happens to you and I'll never get wind of it? I'd be worried sick!"

Dean refused to be moved by Castiel's concern, so he let that remark pass without comment. He supported his heated forehead with the tear-stained fingers of his right hand, his raised elbow rested on his tucked up knee.

"Cas... you can easily wrap anyone around your little finger. You're gorgeous, charming,... Hell, I bet there are enough people out there who would like to be with you. You certainly won't die of solitude. And a quiet life is not the worst thing. I want you to be safe and sound. What would I do if you got hurt? I couldn't stand it either..."

Dean heard the exhaustion in his words, how they lacked the same energy Castiel put into his. It was so very tempting to forget this fight and to pick up where they had left off this morning. What a weird situation. Just a day ago they had made love to one another; they had dropped all the remaining, invisible curtains which had concealed them from each other. And now... now all of this was supposed to end. Dean's tacitness must have been contagious, because when Castiel spoke again, he sounded so much more gentle and apologetic. His hand had let go of Dean's, and now his forefinger's fingertip slid up and down Dean's sensitive wrist, tenderly stroking his forearm. His touches were like fire etching its way into Dean's skin to stay there for a lifetime – Dean felt petrified, as if he was about to stop breathing altogether.

"And you think I could so easily swap you with another person? I couldn't... After years of insignificant one-night stands and short-lived flings, you were the first one who really got to me, whom I couldn't get out of my head. Somehow you broke my protective walls bit by bit and took a hold of me. I gave everything to you, Dean, and I would give you more. You can have all of me... So don't ask me to cheapen that experience, don't ask me to find solace in someone else's arms. I only want you."

Castiel had come breathtakingly closer, Dean felt his hot breaths hovering so very near to his own lips, fanning against him over and over again. He was gravitating towards him, just a tilt of his head, just a laughable raising of his head, and they could kiss each other hard and unforgivingly again. Instead, he looked up and withstood Castiel's gaze with a steady, firm glance. It hurt him to see his red-rimmed eyes, how the dark-haired man was about to cry too. Dean was to blame for all of this, he knew that perfectly. Whatsoever, he had to finish what he had started.

"I can't take that risk, Cas. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. And because you mean a lot to me -" Cas scoffed incredulously as if he wasn't believing one word Dean was saying, interrupting Dean like this – and Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him lightly, seeking for his eyes affirmatively. Each hunch of sarcasm and scorn had vanished from Castiel's face, and now he was crying openly as he drowned in Dean's eyes with an expression of tortured misery beautifying his face like a deadly veil.

"Don't you dare to assume I wouldn't care about you! I care a lot, okay? I care more than I should, more than anyone ever allowed me to. And because you mean that much to me, I can't take you along. I just can't."

A breath-taking moment of silence lasted between them as they regarded each other thoughtfully. Castiel's face had turned into stone, but bitter tears were welling abundantly in his reddened eyes. Dean was crying too, but with each passing second he felt his will gaining strength and how a grim mien came to rest on his features as he held Castiel's shoulders in a tight grip. Castiel's intense reaction had startled Dean, he hadn't thought he would have this huge effect on his lover... that he already meant that much to him because of a month in which they had danced around one another. Now he could distinguish clearly that he had to let go before he caused even greater damage. A weak, twitchy smile appeared on Castiel's tear-stained, kissable lips and he averted his eyes.

"So. That is it, I guess. I think the fronts are clear now," he said composed, but then he sniffled again – he seemed only an inch away from a mental breakdown. The way he sobbed and shook violently alarmed Dean and hurt him more than he would have ever thought possible. To see what pain Castiel was suffering was worse than any bad emotion Dean was capable of feeling. He longed to embrace him and hold him close to his chest and calm him until the end of time. But he had to pull away and get out of Castiel's life.

Castiel curled up into a silently crying ball and hid his face against his tucked up legs. Dean watched his shoulders and back quake oddly – he was itching so badly to soothe Castiel's nerves, but then all of this would have been in vain. In Dean's experience, it was better to make a painful break than drawing out the agony, so he got up hesitantly and looked down at his former lover.

"I'm sorry, Cas. We can't be more than therapist and patient. If it gives you comfort, I'll try to leave as soon as possible and get out of your hair."

Castiel nodded slowly. Then he raised his head and showed Dean his reddened face blatantly, his eyes were puffy from crying. With the back of his hand, he wiped over his wet cheeks and gave Dean a lifeless smile. Dean was appalled by the sudden, dull look that now lingered in Castiel's blue gems. It seemed like someone had turned the light off, and now only darkness writhed in the dark-haired man.

"I'll manage somehow. I lived without you, I can do it again," Castiel mumbled, but he was talking to himself and his eyes looked right through Dean as if he wasn't recognizing him at all. Dean felt out of place and like a ghost, as if Castiel had already forgotten him. A cold shiver ran down his back, a painful sensation made his knees weak. Castiel got up and strolled to his apartment door listlessly. He opened it for Dean mechanically, regarding him with a deathly pale face and red-rimmed eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said calmly. Dean walked past him, mesmerized by the abrupt change that was possessing Castiel. He had never seen him this way, never so spaced out and emotionless. With a frown, he walked past him and left the apartment in which he had lost his heart. The door closed behind him with a quiet thud. In that moment, Dean felt clarity reaching out for him, like a freezing cold river taking him into the depth of its thunderous streams. He was drowning with each breath he took, but somehow his body was still surviving as he took one cautious step after the other. Each step carried him further away from Castiel and the ephemeral love they had shared.

**TBC**

Come on, you knew this was going to happen. Don't complain, they were adults and spoke about their issues like grown ups (proud of herself lol)! Thanks a bunch for the reviews and kudos I received recently, they make me very happy ^.^ you guys are the best =P So, I'll have to motivate myself for some chores now -grumbles- see you soon!


	25. Chapter 25

Hello cutie pies! Thanks for your awesome feeedback recently, you rock! Sorry for the late update – see at the end for more author's notes aka babbling!

**Chapter 25**

This evening turned into a pathetic display for Dean, so that he barely knew himself any longer. The bottle of Jack was his only companion as he sat in his room in the darkness, thinking about the collateral damage he had provoked. While the alcohol clouded his thinking, he found solace in the fact that Sam wasn't there to see the ridiculous state his older brother was in; clinging to a half emptied bottle of whiskey and mourning a love he had never deserved in the first place wasn't exactly an image he wanted others to see. He felt like he had lost every sense of purpose, indifference expanded in his veins like a cruel disease. He had left Castiel, and ever since, gloom surrounded him with cold, boney fingers. His chest ached and it was difficult to breathe. The moonlight enhanced his exhausted features as he rested his dizzy head against the wall. Tears were drying on his cheeks and he sighed a wrecked sigh and took another gulp of the burning liquid. In this moment, he couldn't care less about the world and its problems, the people he felt inclined to save... All he wanted was to hold Castiel again and shower him with countless, sweet kisses. What would he have given to hear his carefree laughter once more, or to be considered with a gentle smile and eyes that were brimming over with undeniable love?

Instead, he had only one aim ahead – an endless road with no home, no shelter, no love. Only blood and death and violence and an uncertain future. It was what he deserved, what he had been raised for – he had no right to swing off that foreseen road. In his head, he could hear John scolding him for his foolish desires and silly thoughts. Black despair ensconced itself in Dean's heart, and he was suffused with warring thoughts and contradictory wishes. He still felt the bloodlust, the urge for revenge and to live out his aggressions. He still wanted to protect Sam and make sure he was alright. But the persistent screaming of his heart, to claim Castiel and to be with him... it was simply indelible and so greedy, it tore Dean apart. He already feared the nighttime of the upcoming days would be most difficult to survive, for he felt like he saw remembrances of Castiel shining purely and brightly mostly in the dark hours. His mind was playing games with him, and he drank and suffered quietly while he studied ghostlike smiles, beautifully glowing eyes, and the warm phantom touches of Castiel lingering on his skin.

Dean knew he could have put the blame on his father for training him the way he did, for that had forced Dean to consider himself as unworthy of a stable relationship, as unworthy of a normal life. But maybe it had been his own fault right from the start, to think so little of himself and to allow doubts to take over his mind. He could have also been angry with Sammy for compelling him to break up with Castiel. But Dean didn't feel the need to kid himself. He knew perfectly he was at fault for the current situation. He had gotten involved with Castiel. He had fallen in love with him. No one had made him fall in love with him but Dean himself. It had been his own stupidity, his own will to let go of his wariness and open up to an almost stranger. There was no one there he could blame but himself.

At some point, it must have been deep in the night, Dean fell into a light slumber, which didn't give comfort or ease of mind at all. He had nightmares and they all dealt with cruel demons and images of Castiel. Castiel on his knees, begging Dean desperately to save him while bestial claws ripped him apart. Sam coughing blood while dark, diabolic shadows rose behind him dreadfully. When Dean awoke in the early hours of the next day, he was soaked through with cold sweat. He was breathing irregularly and his hand was trembling vehemently as he wiped hot rivulets of tears from his night-cooled cheeks.

That Monday morning, Castiel picked Dean up for their first training session of his fifth week here, as if nothing had happened. But the transformation between them was painfully palpable; it hid in every look, in every tentative motion. Castiel looked pale and tired, but still too gorgeous and irresistible as he leaned against the doorframe and smiled languidly at Dean. It was weird to not receive a hard, passionate kiss – the morning ritual Dean had grown so fond of. A thousand unspoken sentences remained in the air and Dean was certain, if one of them dared to break the dam, the stream of words would be unstoppable. But neither of them spoke too much. What was there to say, really? Dean wasn't in the mood for small talk and after the tininess of sleep last night, he had no energy to lead Castiel to believe that he was fine. Of course, that didn't imply they had forgotten some sort of etiquette. There were quiet, polite "good mornings" exchanged but no "how are you doing" as they walked side by side to Castiel's office.

Dean risked a few side glances as he studied Castiel's beautiful but stern facial features, and though he saw Castiel's eyes become gloomy and a melancholic, brittle smile came to Castiel's lips – the other man didn't respond to Dean's looks but just kept on walking silently. He admired Castiel's willpower and persistence secretly, for Dean felt one second away from exploding with pain and longing. At the moment, it really wasn't above him to fall to his knees and beg Castiel for his forgiveness – he absolutely couldn't stand the austerity of his countenance, that austerity that had replaced the warm, soft glow that had been there before. How this coldness had repressed the memory of love and kind feelings Castiel had held for Dean. Nothing in the world could make up for that damage, at least this was what it looked like to Dean.

The hour of their workout was exhausting, and it lacked severely of personal conversations. Howsoever, there was no deafening silence thriving between them. On the contrary, Castiel explained a lot about their new training tools – he told Dean they could stress the calf more now and challenge it to heal quicker, so they used more weights than usual and tension belts Dean didn't like at all. Dean marveled at Castiel's professionalism, how he kept his cool around Dean at all times. He seemed so far away, so aloof... as if they didn't know each other at all. Dean knew he should have been happy that Castiel was so mature and collected, it would make it easier for them to part for good – but somehow it ached in his chest to fear Castiel had given him up already, that, as they were talking and training together, he was simultaneously deleting Dean from the record of his brain and heart. In the end, he would be nothing more than a dark memory, a fleeting ghost of a fickle past. But what could he do? He had set his sails, and now he had to travel on the planned route.

He feigned a smile when their hour was over and when he walked past Castiel. He couldn't get over how distant and cold the smile was he received in return. How a grim, knowing glimmer flared up in Castiel's blue orbs as he said goodbye to Dean as well. It may have been unspoken, but it was noticeable that the wounds they had received yesterday were still fresh and deep. That there were still unvoiced conflicts wafting through the air – conflicts they either fought or swept under the table. Dean wasn't sure he could live with the guilt and this pain until the end of his days... To assume Castiel might be able to forget him quickly and carry on without him... It hurt to think he didn't matter to him in the same way.

…

The second session of this Monday was even worse. Castiel was more silent than ever, and it was terribly contagious. Dean was suffused with an unhealthy portion of self-hate as he contemplated Castiel's reticent face while he himself didn't say anything either. He could still discern Castiel's soapy, fresh scent... he could still feel the tingling warmth of his palms seeping through his skin and bones when Castiel palpated his injured calf and massaged it with a concentrated frown. They were physically so close, but on an emotional level Castiel had shut all possible doors and refused to let Dean inside ever again – that much was certain.

When they parted for that day, they were standing in front of Castiel's office and examined the other hesitantly. Castiel was toying with his key ring and, for no apparent reason, they remained exactly where they were without a sensible excuse or announced purpose. The setting sun enlightened the deserted hallway; its reddish and orange light came to rest on Castiel's shoulders and his dark hair – his skin seemed to glow ethereally. Their eyes met and for a heart-stopping moment they looked at each other intensely. Dean's head was swimming, his heart thumped forcefully against his ribcage. He studied the returning suaveness coming to life in Castiel's blue eyes, how the littlest, most tender smile beautified his features. Dean couldn't breathe... He was so attracted to Castiel – every second in which he couldn't hold him in his arms was a wasted second. It appeared they were both waiting for the other to break the ice and talk openly about everything.

But Dean knew a conversation would come to no good. It would change nothing; it would only hurt more. So he tore his eyes away from Castiel and saw how his face fell – the tiniest ounce of hope left his former lover's visage and the coldness possessed his fine features once more. Dean watched briefly how he encompassed the key ring with a tight fist and clenched his jaw. He wished Castiel a good night and turned around – every step cost him a lot of his will power, it was a real effort to get away from everything he ached for.

This night, he drank himself to oblivion – his nerves were quite frayed so he couldn't even make himself care about crying silently for a good while. Somehow he feared facing Castiel again the next day. His company made him nervous and sensitive, and he wasn't sure for how much longer he would be able to sit or lie beside him and not touch him and make up for the pain he had caused. It was a hairy situation they were currently caught in, and somehow Dean thought it would be better to disappear in the dead of the night without ever looking back, than to sit it out and be confronted with this day in, day out. But who was he to whine about this? It must have been more difficult for Castiel, and Dean didn't hear him complain once. With a sour, exasperated look he wiped his tears away and decided to follow Castiel's example. Only a few more days, then all of this would be over.

It didn't help, though, to lie awake in bed on his back as the bluish twilight spread in his small room – he noted his arms lacked a certain kind of weight. He yearned for Castiel's body; it was like he had become the extension of Dean's physical form. It felt like an arm or leg was missing, and now Dean was crippled due to this part of him he couldn't retrieve. He was starving for the clever tilt of Castiel's hips as they moved together, their pelvises grinding hotly, intimately. With closed eyes, the world spun maddeningly, and Dean felt the vigor of the liquor traveling through his veins. As drunk as he was, it was easy to give in to the heavenly delirium. He thought he could feel Castiel's plump lips pressing against his, how his lover took care of him perfectly as fingers enveloped his swelling cock gently. It might have been his hand stroking him to his climax and there may have been tears in the corners of his eyes, but the satisfied smile on his mouth was honest – and the images of Castiel playing behind his retina were vivid and beautiful, and the hoarse moan resounding in the room was permeated with lust and love. For a momentary second, Dean was blissfully happy.

…

The awkward behavior around one another continued for the next few days. In the two hours they shared each day, Dean and Castiel tried to act normally and unfazed. There were attempts of small talk and voiced instructions about exercises, but apart from that, it was awfully quiet between them. Though the spring outside the building gained strength and therefore warmth, Dean felt mostly cold with every elapsing minute. No hot shower or coffee could replace the warmth Castiel had suffused him with. He missed him. He missed him so dearly, it ached all the time, and he couldn't think about anything else but his former lover. Dean canceled his poetry course, he didn't go to the common room to seek company or a distraction... As much as he had come out of his shell before and lost his inhibitions – now he was slowly starting to build up his protective walls again. He was falling back into old patterns, and there was nothing he could do about it. He spent his evenings with drinking himself to death, and more than once a female nurse complained that he had barely eaten anything during the day. With Castiel out of his reach, he had lost his appetite. Dean tried his best to remain calm and friendly, but he couldn't help snarl at the lady to leave him alone. He knew he was behaving like an asshole, but he just didn't have the energy to care.

All he could think about was the lack of pleasant, stimulating conversations he and Castiel had had. How right and exciting it had felt to kiss him, to touch him... and to be touched lovingly in return and to read the affection Castiel had for him in his eyes clearly. How was he supposed to continue this life when his throat constricted at the mere thought of kissing him again? When tears welled up in his eyes and when exhausted sighs left him as he kept on drinking, thinking about Castiel's honest, careful smiles? His detachment confused and hurt Dean, though he knew he had kind of asked for this. Actually, he should have been grateful that he was still able to lay eyes on Castiel. Seeing him was breaking his heart, but it was better to endure this bittersweet pain than to live only with memories of Castiel. This thought was a poor consolation, as was the bottle of Jack he emptied with one last, huge gulp.

Wednesday evening had come and Sam sat in Dean's room and studied his drunken brother with scrutinizing, judging eyes silently. Dean didn't feel like talking. They both knew he had only carried out his duty and done the only thing reasonable. There was nothing Sam could have said to comfort Dean or to make him forget what opportunities his and Castiel's relationship could have had. He lounged around on his bed and cradled the empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, staring at the darkening firmament outside. The sky was pale blue and white, silvery stars appeared gradually. The silence in his room boomed in Dean's eyes dolorously. He sighed and closed his lids, feeling the inebriation expanding in his body. He just wanted to be left alone. Today, Castiel had been more silent than ever, and Dean had detected the paleness in his facial features, how dead and tired his eyes had seemed. How Castiel had bitten down on his lower lip several times, appearing as if he had wanted to say something – but before rash words could have escaped his mouth, he had compressed his lips tightly and looked away. How easy it would have been had Dean just taken his hand then and urged him to talk about whatever was plaguing his mind... But they had both remained silent, and that had been not only awkward but excruciating as well. Sam speaking again ripped Dean out of his gloomy thoughts abruptly.

"Dean, I know you're still thinking about Castiel, but we have other, more serious questions to discuss. I need you to focus and keep on task!"

Dean turned his head and gave his younger brother a daring death-glare, which Sam replied steadily. He assumed Sam was right. There were major problems they needed to handle somehow, he had to concentrate and suppress his emotional outbursts. Now wasn't the time, if there ever was a time for him to break down and let himself go. So he nodded subtly and put the empty flask on the nightstand. He rubbed the fatigue and the remnants of welling tears out of his burning eyes and sighed heavily.

"I'm all ears. What do you suggest?"

He watched Sam knead his hands into each other nervously, sucking his lower lip into the cave of his mouth absentmindedly.

"We have to do something about that devil's gate. I mean, we can't just leave it there like that. Bobby said if it's broken or unsealed in any way, more and more demons can access our world. Remember that black smoke? That was a demon slowly manifesting! I suggest we drive there and, I don't know, try to keep the epidemic at bay. Maybe we can dig or burn a devil's trap into the ground around the gate and force the demons to stay inside until we find a better solution. It won't stop them from escaping hell, but at least they would be out there in no-man's-land without causing trouble," Sam thought aloud, meeting Dean's pensive eyes in the end.

"And what, in your opinion, should we do about demons attacking us when we get there? Last time I checked there were six demons beating us to mash, and who knows how many more are gathering at that place right now... I agree though, we have to do something about it. But I fear we're outnumbered. You know, I never liked working with other hunters, but I think it's necessary to call for back up. We should call Ellen from the Roadhouse and ask her if she knows a few guys that could help. I mean, look at me, Sam. I'm not really at my best, and I'm glad we could run away the last time, but I'm not certain I can do it again."

"No!" Sam exploded suddenly, fierce wrath written all over his face as he sat up on the edge of his chair. "We cannot involve other hunters in this. What if some demon talks about Azazel's plans for me again? There's no way you could defend me against a bunch of ruthless guys you don't even know!"

Dean winced at Sam's vehement reaction; he admitted he hadn't thought about that, and Sam was right, but it was simply impossible for the two of them to defeat a little army of demons by themselves. He was seeking for clever plans in his tired head, howsoever he couldn't finish his train of thoughts because Sam spoke again, this time accusingly, and he spat his words aggressively.

"What's wrong with you, Dean? You sound like you have lost your faith in our abilities! We can do this if we work together. You're not as damaged as you think you are. I think you've just been in here too long, you need to get out of this stepford-wives-life, it's clouding your mind. You have never been like that, you're acting like a wuss!"

For the length of a breath, Dean was too perplexed to understand what was happening. But then he realized, Sam was picking a fight again, and he didn't know his reasons for that. Had he been too lost in his own world and his grief for Castiel? Was something going on with his younger brother he had been blind to? Whatever the reason, he couldn't condone Sam's rude, inappropriate behavior, so he shot back instantly.

"What's wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you? Jesus Christ, I'm just trying to be reasonable here, Sam! Do you want to get us killed? We cannot do this on our own! I'm older and I have more experience in this, and I promised dad to look out for you. So you can bet your ass I will not let us go there again unprepared or without some kind of back up. And now listen to me, you little shit. I will only tell you this once and then I expect you to shut your mouth about it, capiche? Being here was one of the best things that have ever happened to me. I was happy. With Castiel I had something I never had before, in comparison to what you had with Jessica. And you asked me to throw all of this away, and I did because I know what I have to do. So don't you dare make fun of me for being a little rattled. I will snap out of it eventually. But, even as it is, I'm clearer in my head than you! We will not return to this place without a dead certain plan, you hear me?"

Sam placed his gigantic hand over his own mouth and his eyes watered with desperate tears he struggled to keep inside. His odd behavior unsettled Dean. Sam nodded and looked away; his shoulders slumped down and he seemed terribly small and lost. Dean felt the surge of anger inside of him ebb away swiftly, for he couldn't stand seeing his brother in that way.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Sorry. I never meant... Sorry. Just forget it," Sam chocked out, and Dean's heart convulsed, his chest tightened. By instinct, Dean leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder, bending his head to seek for his answering eyes. When they regarded one another at last, Sam laughed embarrassed and shook his head as if he was scolding himself for his temper tantrum. He brushed over his face with the back of his hand and sighed raggedly.

"It's just... I'm a little worried about these demons-have-plans-for-me-story. It's not exactly a reassuring thought to fall asleep with every night. And I feel like we're not doing enough. I want to stay ahead of those sons of bitches, before they get to us. And lately... Lately I've been thinking you didn't care about me wandering off to the dark side. It seemed like you didn't give a damn. Sorry. I know you're going through a rough patch at the moment," Sam apologized ruefully.

Dean sensed a small smile crawling to his mouth as he beheld his brother quietly. Damn Sam and his heart-wrenching speeches and his puppy dog eyes. Damn it. Dean could never stay mad at him for a long time. He squeezed the broad shoulder of his brother amicably, then he patted his cheek caringly. Sam looked up in awe.

"My god, Sam. You bitch! You're such a dumbass! You should know me better than that. I get you're upset and fidgety about the whole thing, but it's no good storming back there again and die for nothing. Let me think this through for a night or two, okay? We'll find a way and we will contain the problem. And whatever happens, you've got me, and I will not let you change into something evil. Got it? Oh, and by the way... Be a good boy and get me another bottle, would you?"

Dean put on his most charming smile and grinned cockily at Sam. Sam got up and let out a laugh, then he pushed Dean's head to the side playfully and walked to the door.

"God, you're such a jerk! I'll be back in half an hour," he said and left, and Dean collapsed into his bed and tried to digest the just-had conversation. A brittle smile was glued to his lips, but a somber, dull gleam remained in his eyes as they stared at the ceiling for an indefinite period of time. Somehow he had the feeling things were getting out of hand at a tearing pace, in every way imaginable.

…

When Dean entered Castiel's office the next Thursday morning, hung-over and awfully bone-tired, he paused in his movements, completely taken aback by the unexpected, given sight. He stood silently and yet unseen in the doorway, watching Castiel sit on the mats, curled up into a ball. His knees were tucked up, his face resting between his thighs. His arms were wrapped around his lower legs, and Dean recognized his knuckles were standing out whitely, Castiel was holding his hands together so tightly. He studied the curve of his bent back, how it shook and trembled oddly whenever Castiel inhaled and exhaled deeply. His breaths erupted from his lean frame again and again, and somehow they all sounded gut-wrenchingly sad and flustered as they fled into the air, barely perceptible. Dean felt melancholy reaching out for him, sadness assaulted him, as he observed the man he loved so obviously struggling and being in some kind of pain. How he ached to walk up to him, sit down and run a hand through his raven black hair carefully. He wanted nothing else than to rock him in his arms and kiss him over and over again, until his love and care became a remedy for Castiel, until he saw him smile again. Without thought, he stepped forward and harrumphed to make his presence known.

Castiel yanked his head up with a start and stared at Dean with tear-stained, widened eyes. His mouth was slightly agape in awe as their eyes were glued to one another for a moment, trying to read the other's mind frantically. Dean felt deep sympathy coming to life in his chest, his heart made violent, aching pounds. His blood thudded loudly in his ears, he felt strangely attracted and hypnotized by Castiel, so he took one hesitant step after the other into the room and knelt down next to him – but Castiel skid backwards like a wounded, shocked animal. He averted his eyes and wiped the tears hectically away, combing through his messy hair with a nervous hand.

"What's wrong?" Dean coed gently, ignoring how his hand was itching to touch Castiel's shoulder soothingly. Castiel looked feverish, his gaze was hazy and unfocused, as if he was trapped in a distant fantasy world. The movements of his otherwise so confident body were now all antsy and restless as his eyes wandered around aimlessly. He looked anywhere but at Dean, and Dean felt an incredible sadness inside of him as he wished for nothing more than Castiel's beautiful, lavender-blue eyes regarding him again with the love and serenity they now lacked. It hurt him to realize what transition had happened to Castiel within the last few days. He appeared slimmed down, exhausted. His face was ashen and stern, as if he was still bitterly suppressing the heartache running towards him, coming closer and closer.

"Nothing. Nothing, I'm fine," Castiel croaked out, sounding benumbed and indifferent as he kept staring blankly at nothing and everything at the same time.

With as much caution as Dean could muster, he placed his palm flat on Castiel's warm back, and Castiel winced at the gentle touch. Dean wanted to take on his burden, he needed to do something to make it easier for Castiel; he couldn't stand seeing him like this. He compressed his lips as he fought against the welling tears in his own eyes; then he began to stroke Castiel's lithe back with slow up and down movements, rubbing small circles into his clothed flesh with his thumb lovingly. A heart-stopping, lengthy sigh escaped Castiel, and he let his head hang down. Dean watched him close his lids and how small rivulets of hot tears bedewed his cheeks as they made their way down. He skimmed along the gorgeous back and felt the tension vanishing from Castiel's uptight body with each passing second.

At once, Castiel sobbed without making a single sound, then he hid his face in one of his palms and turned his head, facing away from Dean as violent sobs shook his body forcefully. Intuitively, Dean moved closer and put his arm completely around Castiel's torso; his hand took a hold of Castiel's waist, his fingers dug into the soft flesh demandingly. Dean's breathing faltered and his heart raced in his chest excitedly, as he felt Castiel slowly leaning into him trustfully. As if in slow motion, Dean recognized their bodies were gradually melting as they moved together; Castiel became limp in this awkward embrace and buried his face in the place between Dean's neck and shoulder, sniffling quietly. Dean's physical proximity seemed to give solace to Castiel, for as soon as they sat like this, huddled up to one another's side with frightened, brittle hearts – as soon as they sat like this, Castiel calmed down and started breathing in normal, composed intervals.

When he spoke again, it felt like poison burning Dean alive with its toxic – he could barely breathe, it was like a kick in the teeth to listen to the abyss of pain Castiel had fallen into. The abyss Dean had pushed him into.

"I'm not sure I'll live through this at all. I know I said I'll manage somehow but... you know... it affects me more than I want it to. I can't sleep, I can't eat... and I feel lost and tired all the time. I miss you, Dean. I really miss you. And seeing you everyday just makes it worse, because that's the only highlight of my day, but it's also the time I dread the most. You've gotten to my head, and now I can't get you out!"

Every word was searing agony, it felt like someone tried to suffocate Dean. A lump of pain corded up his throat; he blinked against the tears rising abundantly in his eyes. Subconsciously, he tilted his head and buried his face in Castiel's smooth, divine smelling hair, breathing his essence in, for it was the only thing that reassured him in this moment. He felt so fragile and needy, and he hated himself for putting Castiel through this. In the heat of the moment, he brought his other arm around him as well and tugged at his waist, then he pulled Castiel in his lap resolutely.

Dean shifted and moved even closer, not giving a damn about rationality. He needed him. God, how he needed him. Castiel sat in his lap and brought his face to Dean's neck, his arms enveloped Dean in the embrace. Their chests bumped together, and it was the most precious thing to feel Castiel this close again. They were so near, they were breathing against each other, sharing shaky, hesitant breaths as pleasant warmth expanded between them. Castiel's breaths were moist and hot as they hit Dean's exposed skin constantly. His fingernails delved painfully into Dean's back as Dean let his fingers glide affectionately through his dark hair repeatedly. Nothing except for the two of them was existent, nothing else mattered.

Fleetingly, Dean thought it was pathetic and desperate, how they were holding on to one another so helplessly and hopelessly. But maybe that was what love was doing to you, making you dependent and addicted to the other so that you felt broken and bruised and incomplete when your partner wasn't around. And Dean realized he loved the rapture Castiel was making him feel, he was the perfect drug and Dean simply craved for another shot. All those last, horrible days were forgotten once he breathed his ex-lover's scent in, once he felt his profound warmth. His head was spinning, delight spread in his belly and he held Castiel tighter, as if they were an inseparable unit.

They were spiraling towards one another dangerously fast, and Dean felt Castiel tense up, but this time with arousal. His thighs clenched around Dean's pelvis firmly, his breaths became ragged and chopped off. Dean was just about to either comment on their clingy embrace or kiss Castiel hard and possessively, but then the intimate minute passed and Castiel scrambled away and to his feet. He glared down at Dean with a tremulous chest – his eyes contained a savage, exasperated expression. His cheeks were heavily reddened and his pink lips were supplied with hot blood and therefore swollen, as if they had kissed for hours. Dean sat on the ground and looked up at his former lover with a frown, not comprehending the shift in his demeanor. He recognized Castiel was clenching a fist. Their eyes met. Castiel didn't look sad or forlorn anymore, he looked embittered and uncompromising.

"Forget it. Just a moment of weakness, a lapse of concentration. That's all. Sorry, I didn't want to make you feel guilty. You told me about your purposes and we parted. It's not your fault I became so attached to you," Castiel explained nonchalantly, oh so cold, as if nothing had happened – even though he had shown such strong emotions just a moment ago. Dean furrowed his brow and tilted his head, one second away from protesting and forcing Castiel to talk to him. Castiel turned around and made his way towards the door.

"Cas, wait! Where are you going?" Dean asked disgruntled, dissatisfied with the development of events. Castiel stopped briefly, Dean saw his shoulders and his whole back stiffen. He inclined his head towards Dean, a small, gentle smile came to Castiel's plump, rosy lips. He looked almost peaceful, but still so lethal and detached that it frightened Dean somewhat. Where had his ardent, responsive lover disappeared to?

"I'll request a substitute therapist for you. I can't stand facing you every day, Dean. I'd just be losing my nerves," Castiel stated as if it was the most natural thing in the world to leave him like that. With that sad smile still painted on his lips, Castiel left the room and walked away, unperturbed by Dean calling him back constantly. Dean dwelt on the mats despondently, not knowing what to do with himself. His fingers still tingled with the sensation of holding and caressing Castiel; he still heard his quiet breaths, he still smelt him... With each day, Castiel was getting further and further away, he was already beyond reach for Dean. He felt inwardly torn as he closed his eyes and focused on the pain thriving within him like an ugly hedge of wild roses with magnificent thorns penetrating his chest.

…

Janet, the therapist Dean had trained with the other day, entered the room with a sympathetic smile. She shook his hand carefully and talked encouragingly with Dean, not commenting on Castiel or his absence at all, and Dean admired her professionalism. His mind was far away and he was still upset, but then they started the training, and soon Dean was highly concentrated on his working limbs and his burning muscles and sinews. It felt good to challenge his body and to be preoccupied with exercises. Slowly but surely, he recovered from this morning's shock, and he was almost convinced it wasn't even as bad as he had thought. Hell, he and Castiel would get over this, without a doubt.

Nevertheless, when he strolled along the corridor after the workout session, his newly found confidence tumbled down again and dissolved into nothingness. He had wanted to go outside and get his share of the warm spring sun; he had been certain it would ease his mind to the utmost. But then he approached the reception desk, and he saw Karen and Castiel talking animatedly as they stood there close together, and a sour mood took a hold of him. He was too far away to grasp what they were saying – but it must have been something funny, because Karen laughed heartily, and her bright laughter rang as clear as a bell. Castiel was chuckling too, he scrunched up his nose and his eyes wrinkled in the manner Dean had come to love. The yellowish, rich sunlight caressed their athletic bodies and got stuck to their light-colored uniforms. Their eyes glowed, as did their skin and hair. They looked absolutely marvelous and superior in the sunlight, and Dean thought, sorely afflicted, what a nice couple they would make.

Jealousy clouded his thinking, he bit on his bottom lip, half angry, half depressed. Was Castiel already moving on? Had Dean meant so little to him that he had no qualms about poaching the next person? Dean felt cheap and disgusted. He didn't know who he hated more – Castiel or himself. He shook his head disappointedly and left without being noticed by anyone. He retreated to the known, lonely confines of his room and kept reading his brought novels while lying on his bed. Sam called him and they perused several ideas coming to their heads, they even talked about a few guys John had known as possible recruits for their plan – but in the end, they had decided to determine their plan tomorrow. Dean was tired and a nervous wreck, his mind was too fogged to think clearly. He fell asleep after lunch and was woken by Janet with a soft smile and sympathetic eyes. He struggled out of bed and followed her to their next training session for this day.

…

Dean returned to his room when he was done with the workouts for today. He stopped dead in his tracks once he had opened the door – someone was lying in his bed! Outside, it was still broad daylight, for the days became longer and longer as the spring slowly transformed to summer. The person lying in his bed and sleeping like a log didn't care about the warm sunlight though. A wistful smile graced Dean's lips and he walked inside, closing the door without a sound. Hesitantly, he approached the unconscious body on tiptoes – even his own breaths sounded awfully loud, so he breathed deep and brokenly to reduce the noise level as much as possible. He halted next to his bed and looked down at Castiel sleeping in his bed, as innocent and as beautiful as an angel.

Of course it was Castiel. Dean had recognized his dark mop immediately. Castiel was lying on his stomach, his arms lay awkwardly next to his sides. His right cheek rested on the pillow, so that Dean could see the other half of his face. It struck Dean hard to regard Castiel wearing such a peaceful, facial expression again. All the worry lines were gone, the paleness had left his cheeks. Instead, they seemed to be shadowed by a rosy, heated blush, which made him look sensual and somewhat aroused. His lips were slightly parted, Dean found them nothing but kissable and to die for. If he wasn't mistaken, he saw the faintest smile lingering on Castiel's mouth while he was sleeping. The hubbub of today was forgotten and suddenly nothing more than a petty inconvenience instead of a doomsday – the sight of Castiel repaid Dean for all his worries.

Very carefully, he lowered himself to his knees, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him. He couldn't resist, so he raised his hand and let his fingers sift through the dark curls of Castiel. They felt smooth and warm under his fingertips, and he stroked through them several times. Mesmerized, he let his yearning gain the upper hand, and he committed himself to his lover absentmindedly. His forefinger glided over the protruding, fine jawline, he felt a tiny stubble tickling him. Castiel twitched a little in his sleep, but he didn't wake. Dean's breathing stopped when he let his fingertip ghost over Castiel's heady, plump lips, tracing their contour. They were so soft and pliant... he actually felt the subtle notches and creases... those delicacies that had caressed his own lips. His eyes closed half, his lids were heavy with lust and need. In that moment, Castiel woke up, and as he opened his eyes, he saw Dean kneeling in front of him, his forefinger's tip still touching his mouth in the most tentative way.

His deep blue eyes seemed clouded with confusion, and worry wrinkles appeared on his forehead as he studied Dean thoroughly.

"Dean?" he asked suspiciously, his voice croaky and brittle with sleep. He grasped Dean's wrist and held it in place with gentle force, as a slow smile formed on his lips. A loveable gleam appeared in his eyes and made them glow, and Dean found he couldn't withstand responding to his lover's smile. He nodded subtly.

**TBC**

Well, I've been told by my wonderful beta Angelphoenixwings14 she had a rough time editing this chapter because of the awful heartbreak. But I suppose the rather hopeful ending of this chapter made up for it, don't you think? = ) Thanks once more for the awesome beta-job (were you a little hard on me this time or was I really so awful! XD)! I guess my beta is a defender of the oxford comma, which I often forget but love – and she's so great, she's fixing my progressive verb forms (you can always talk to be about grammar, readers!) to simple past tense forms, which is just fantastic (seriously *rubs your back appreciatively*)!

Darlings, we're nearing the end – I figured out how to end this story, currently it looks like there will be 30 chapters over-all. I've been trying to finish chapter 30 for too long by now, trying to find the right feel for it – once I did so, I will post as fast as possible (but I also want the stuff proofread to be sure). Until then, please let me know what you think! You guys motivate me to move _ **my lame ass**_ and update quicker! Tons of love and have a good weekend – oh, and lets's cross our fingers the next SPN episode will be great!


	26. Chapter 26

Hey sweeties! Thanks for leaving me such lovely reviews =D The next chapter is near and dear to me, it's rather important for the plot in this,... so, here we go =) The next chapter is near and dear to me, it's rather important for the plot in this,... so, here we go =)

**Chapter 26**

Raptured, Dean watched Castiel's other hand coming up as well, approaching his face while they kept smiling at each other carefully. Castiel's palm came to rest on Dean's cheek and Castiel clasped his face and pulled him down resolutely, bringing him in. Drum beats boomed inside Dean, his heart contracted. He breathed tremulously as he saw Castiel's lids fluttering shut sensually. With half-closed eyes, he regarded his lover's erotic, flushed face, overcome with desire. Dean leaned in hungrily and brought his lips to Castiel's, kissing him slowly, testing the water. Castiel felt soft and warm against him; an electric sensation coursed through Dean as he felt him respond to his kisses passionately. Soon, Castiel's hand left Dean's cheek and encompassed Dean's back of the head – he yanked Dean forward and pressed their mouths harder together. Castiel tilted his head and opened up his mouth, hot, stuttered exhales wafted straight through Dean's spread lips.

It felt like a blessing to be so near to Castiel again. Every shared, stumbling breath gave him absolution, every slippery slide of their smooth lips created a churning, warm feeling in Dean's stomach. It seemed like a cure for all the excruciating feelings Dean had to go through recently. Stunned by Castiel's vigor, Dean melted into their hard, unforgiving kisses and lifted his hands to seek for physical support as his nerves went haywire. He grabbled at Castiel's collar, rumpling the texture as he pulled Castiel closer and closer. Their hands were seeking and finding, their bodies bending down and up to come together. Before Dean realized it, his torso was hovering right over Castiel's. When they broke apart, huffing and puffing while frantic expressions dwelt in their eyes, Dean still felt Castiel's hand on the back of his skull. The black-haired man had his other arm wrapped around Dean's waist, keeping him close.

For a thoughtful moment, Dean scanned Castiel's reddened cheeks, his hazy, lust-blown eyes, his serene smile as he studied Dean in his stead. He shivered with pleasure when Castiel's fingertips fondled his short-cropped hair and moved down his sensitive neck. Castiel's soft, pink lips looked puffy through their kisses; Dean couldn't get over the satisfied, tranquil expression Castiel wore, as if everything in the world was just perfect the way it was. Dean bit down on his bottom lip, hesitating what he was supposed to do now. His gaze wandered over Castiel's lean body, splayed out seductively and loose-limbed in his bed. He didn't know if Castiel was doing it on purpose, but he was subtly writhing on the mattress, lolling in the sheets temptingly. His eyes spoke volumes, bearing a come-hither look that made Dean's mouth water with lust. Castiel's hands left Dean completely and the hunter couldn't believe his own eyes when he understood what Castiel was up to.

His heart thumped violently in his chest as he observed the slender, nimble fingers coming down on Castiel's heaving chest. They slid down the clothed ribcage, the slender sides and the narrow waist while Dean's eyes switched between Castiel's dilated ones and the working hands. He gulped heavily when the fingers traveled to the hem of the shirt and pushed it up slowly, revealing a taut stomach and slightly tanned skin. Dean yearned to kiss the protruding ribs and the sharp hipbones, but somehow, he was too hypnotized by the fingertips drawing small circles on the supple flesh. One of Castiel's hands curled around the bulge in his slacks, cupping it with a firm grip. Soft, gasped moans escaped Castiel and he threw his head back, carried away with buzz. Dean felt a hot blush tinting his cheeks and diffusing up to his ears. Unearthly heights of pleasure built up in him as he watched the other man stroking himself right in front of him – one hand right on his hardening crotch, the other playing with one nipple under the rucked up shirt. They exchanged heated glances.

Dean felt a surge of enthralling, sexual appetite swash over him as Castiel's hand slid under his slacks and obviously encircled his aroused length. Dean saw he was squeezing his member, and his lids were so burdened with lust, he could only regard Dean through narrowed slits. His mouth was opened to a silent "oh", his lips were trembling with suppressed want as he fondled his dick carefully. Ragged breaths fled repeatedly from those sinful lips. Dean sensed his own dick reacted fiercely to the given display, hot blood pumped through his veins and hardened him rigorously as he kept kneeling next to Castiel. His lover looked down and smiled peacefully when he recognized Dean's jeans tenting uncomfortably due to his erection. He stopped touching himself and grabbed Dean by the shoulders resolutely, bringing him nearer. Their heated, wet breaths collided and Dean moaned quietly, wanting nothing more than to merge with Castiel once more.

"Come," Castiel whispered, suffocated with various emotions – then he pulled Dean slowly but unquestionably on top of him; spreading his legs wide open so that Dean could slip in between them. Their pelvises crashed together as Dean pressed down, rubbing their hard lengths together. Castiel's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he arched his hips up to meet Dean's cock. It created wonderful friction, and Dean found, there was no going back now – he needed Castiel. He needed to feel his heat closing in on him, squeezing him and milking him to his long overdue orgasm. He inclined his head and brought his mouth to Castiel's neck, kissing and nibbling at his pulse point sensually; he let his tongue come out and lick over the fine line of his collarbone, leaving bites and bruises, while his hands encompassed Castiel's narrow hips. They were stuttering and bucking up against his, and Dean answered to every thrust with one of his own, dry humping Castiel slowly but surely deeper and deeper into the mattress.

Castiel whimpered and writhed eagerly under Dean, spreading his legs further and bringing his arms around Dean, inviting him trustfully in. Dean felt as if he was caught in a dream – he watched himself sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head. Castiel's eyes were burning with love and passion as he studied Dean's torso quietly, taking in the sight. Dean felt nothing but loved and appreciated, and God, how had he missed that sentiment. Before he could pay attention to his jeans, Castiel's fingers had fled to their waistband, yanking the buttons open with nervous determination. Dean leaned down over Castiel and let his lover slide the offending texture over his butt and down his thighs, then Castiel pushed down his boxer shorts with slow, sensual movements – the tiniest smirk came to his kiss-wet, swollen lips as Dean's hard cock was being released. Dean didn't have to look down to know he was already leaking with precome, he felt the prominent vein on his upper side pulsating with blood, he was so hard. A careful thumb of Castiel spread the pearl of slick liquid over the vulnerable, reddened head of his cock, and Dean regarded Castiel's pupils dilating more and more.

Thrills of ecstasy overwhelmed him when he tilted his head down and kissed Castiel with all he had. Their tongues tangled with each other slowly, and electric strokes dragged the air out of Dean's lungs. His whole body tingled with nervousness and lust, he couldn't help but rut his hips subtly against Castiel's, bringing their erections together. Their kisses became sloppy and desperate, and Castiel whimpered into them high-pitched and fumbled for his own slacks, trying to open them while he kept panting into Dean's mouth erratically. Blindly, Dean shooed his hands away and started unbuttoning the fly front with as much concentration as he could muster. Castiel retreated his head a bit, his teeth tugged at Dean's bottom lip playfully. Inflammable desire licked with aching flames at the bottom of Dean's spine – he could have come already thanks to Castiel's enticing body reacting to his. He devoted himself to nibbling at his partner's pecs, sucking the hardened bud of his nipple into his mouth, lavishing it with a cheeky tongue play and scraping teeth. Once more, he had Castiel squirming underneath him and raising his hips, unmistakably signaling Dean he needed more.

He pulled Castiel's boxers and slacks down in a lithe, skilled movement, and Castiel looked nothing but gorgeous and shy when Dean slid them over his wiggling feet. For a second, Dean admired Castiel as good as naked in his bed, lying under him, his hard, long cock straining upwards on his abdomen. One bold hand of Castiel stroked the inner side of his left thigh, and Dean silently studied the fingers moving lower and lower, disappearing under his balls. He felt the violent jerk of his erection as it hardened even more when Castiel assumingly dared to let one finger slide into his hot, narrow hole. Dean watched him hoisting his ass so that he could touch himself deeper. A concentrated frown veiled Castiel's features, he had his lids closed and his mouth opened to a mute scream. Dean could faintly recognize how Castiel added a second finger, stretching himself with small rotations of his hips. Dean's heart was hammering by now, he felt dizzy and desperate with euphoric lust. It made his flesh crawl and a hot shiver run down his back, seeing Castiel like this – trusting him with all he had, devoting himself to this mind-blowing rapture...

He struggled to his feet and reached for his wash bag with shaky fingers, rummaging in it while he felt Castiel's pensive, blazing eyes on him. He retrieved a travel-sized package of lube and a condom, looking over his shoulder to estimate Castiel's earnestness. He didn't want to exploit him or go further than the other man was ready for, but Castiel nodded subtly and took the items out of Dean's hand. Dean smiled melancholically when Castiel opened the wrapper of the condom with his teeth, then he unrolled it over Dean's twitching, upstanding erection skillfully while Dean stood in front of the bed. He looked down at Castiel while the other looked up, a sentimental smile tugging at his lips. Something more than carnal desire clouded the beautiful, blue eyes, and Dean had to cup his lover's face tenderly, letting his thumb stroke over his cheek and jaw. Castiel sighed and let his eyes shut, he leaned forward and kissed Dean's belly and waist with open-mouthed, careful kisses. His hands must have opened the lube, for Dean felt them rubbing it over his prepared erection, spreading it generously with a tight fist. His legs turned to jelly with each hard stroke and he heard himself gasp and moan lewdly, his body dying for his climax.

He was fraught with tension when Castiel's hands vanished and when Castiel shifted on the bed so that Dean could lay down again. He followed the invitation and lowered himself to his side, watching Castiel mirroring the position, so that they were face to face. Dean let his hand skim over the lean side, admiring the pearls of sweat on Castiel's temple and the spaced out expression in his eyes as he breathed laboredly. As if by magic, they bent their heads simultaneously and their lips brushed over one another, suddenly with caution and a tenderness that spoke volumes. This wasn't only about physical pleasure anymore, Dean realized that soon. Castiel kissed him with an almost aching hunger and melted against him utterly, as Dean dared to let his hand glide lower, fondling the curve of Castiel's spine and the firm muscles of his round ass. Castiel tensed up and whined into their kisses when Dean's forefinger pushed forward and into his puckered, stretched hole, delving into the scorching heat. God, how Castiel's muscles closed in on him, keeping him in place unyieldingly. His cock jerked at the mere thought to be buried in him again. Subconsciously, he brought his middle finger to the quavering hole and Castiel's forehead bumped against his when he shoved it inside with one slow, resolute thrust.

Castiel's nibbled mindlessly at Dean's bottom lip and sucked it greedily into his mouth when Dean rotated his fingers, bringing the final and third one into his lover with a sudden fierceness. Castiel raised his leg so that Dean could give it to him in a better angle – he was filled with joy when Castiel tensed with a surprised moan as Dean touched his sweat spot, pressing his fingertips against it unforgivingly. He was vibrating and wincing with pleasure, becoming absolutely lax and lust-driven next to Dean. It was the last barrier Dean had wanted to see removed; gently, he withdrew his fingers and pressed Castiel down as he touched one of his shoulders. Castiel was sweating, his flesh looked rosy and heated, and his face was glowing with an unspoken mirth as a small smile beautified his features. He wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and folded his arms around Dean's neck; Dean positioned himself and breached Castiel's entry with a slow, restrained movement, filling him up. He marveled at the initial tightness and how hot and tender Castiel felt around him as Dean split him up with his rock-hard cock.

Castiel threw his head from one side to the other as Dean was buried deep inside of him; by instinct, he picked up a slow rhythm and thrust into the widened hole with force, leaving an impression of himself in Castiel's tunnel. Somehow, his befuddled mind thought, if he pressed forward as deep as he could, he could brand the memory of him into Castiel's being, so that he would never forgive him, so that Castiel would always be marked as his. It was a selfish thought, but Castiel seemed to enjoy Dean penetrating him so vigorously and slamming his hips forward – soon, Castiel arched his back and rode each and every one of Dean's thrusts, taking him in and welcoming him inside as if he never wanted Dean to leave either. They were coming together and melting to an unity, bodies and minds becoming nothing more than a shallow nothingness. When Dean stared into Castiel's eyes, they were drowning in each other, and Dean felt light, disembodied, as if he was flying. He was spiked with delight rushing through him, he felt his orgasm building up inside him. He was partly afraid of its intensity, for he reckoned it would probably devastate him, but he couldn't restrain himself any longer.

The way Castiel's thighs clenched around him... how his cheeks and chest were plunged into a deep red, the blush spreading over his body like a wildfire... How his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he choked on his own, moaned breaths... The first convulsions shook Castiel's body, Dean felt him narrow around him. At long last, a divine, sobbed moan left the dark-haired man and he tensed up and lolled in the sheets by turns. He rotated his hips and Dean fucked him hard and fast; Castiel's fingernails dug into Dean's flesh and left bruises and scratches there. Then, white streams of come spurt out of Castiel's throbbing cock and painted his abdomen and stomach. He sighed and moaned lengthily as he gave in to his orgasm taking over his body. Dean shuddered uncontrollably when the hot waves of his climax licked at the bottom of his spine; his hips snapped forward and he glided a few more times into the depths of his lover trembling around his cock. Looking exhausted but satisfied, Castiel opened his eyes and regarded Dean with a loveable smile. His glance was heavy with meaning, a thousand unspoken confessions and love declarations wafted between them through the air. It was the moment when Castiel placed a gentle hand on Dean's cheek and let his thumb stroke over his jaw, when Dean came hard and collapsed on top of him.

He trashed around on the leaner body as wave after wave seized him mercilessly, a tumult of emotions and sensual pleasure rioted within him. Castiel's arms and legs came around him and kept him in place, deeply shed inside of him. They were both panting and humming, indulging in the aftermath of their heights.

…

A few minutes later, they lay collected and comfortably beside each other on the narrow bed. Castiel lay in Dean's arm, and the calloused fingertips of this arm stroked over Castiel's smooth shoulder tenderly, drawing idle and insignificant patterns. They both lay on their backs and stared at the ceiling pensively – its white hue changed gradually into a dim, ashen color as the night found its way into the silent room. It was most appreciated to feel Castiel's warmth and his naked body pressing against his side again, Dean thought, and he savored the moment inwardly. Only blurry thoughts crossed his mind, that they may have made a mistake, getting involved with the other again... but it had felt so right, so good... And right now, Dean still felt no guilt pangs. For the first time in days he felt peaceful and satisfied; nothing seemed that severe or insoluble when Castiel was around him.

Their bodies heated up quickly as their torsos were intimately sandwiched, and Dean smiled to himself happily as he detected the slight layer of sweat blanketing his body. Finally, he felt soothing warmth coursing through his limbs again – for too long, bitter cold had dwelt in his insides; Castiel thawed all the emotional frost and left nothing but nursing, gentle heat. He squeezed his lover mildly in his arm, enjoying how his smooth, black hair brushed over his collar bone as Castiel moved even closer. They didn't need words. Dean sighed when Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean's middle and snuggled up to him. His breaths fanned against Dean's pecs, and slowly but surely, he was lulled in by their constant singsong. It was the most relaxing thing he could think of... His eyes sank with each in- and exhale. Their bodies surged and fell together, until it appeared that they were one being, they were breathing so in tune to one another. Dean's heart clenched with sweet rapture when Castiel's fingernails dug into his side and held him firmly, as if he wanted to make sure the other would never leave him again.

"Can I stay?" Castiel mumbled against Dean's breath-bedewed skin sleepily, and Dean nodded, and added a hoarse, whispered "Yeah". He was sure he could feel the affectionate smile of Castiel's plump, adorable lips moving against his chest. It didn't take long, five minutes at the maximum, and they both fell into a deep slumber. They had been bereaved of a sound sleep rhythm ever since their breakup, so their bodies were glad to receive what their minds and hearts had denied them for days.

With his hazy, infatuated brain, Dean felt a last thought wander through him, and it made him smile gently: In this moment, here in the bluish, tranquil room... huddled up to one another trustfully and most heartfelt, in this moment they were infinite, and no one could take that away from them. Here, they would always be a couple of lovers, no matter what happened after this.

…

Around the time in which the night slowly altered into an early morning and in which the sky lightened to a pale blue, Castiel woke up to go to the bathroom. Dean was stirring from his slumber too, for he missed the cozy warmth of his lover's body next to him. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, realizing he was wonderfully rested. Castiel emerged from the bathroom, wearing his now crumpled shirt and his boxer shorts again. He strolled to the bed with a hearty yawn, then he stretched himself and smiled at Dean gently. They shared a silent, affectionate glance in the crepuscular light. Dean marveled at his partner, he found no fitting words to express how happy he was to be near him again. He watched Castiel folding back the duvet and crawling into the bed again. In the dark, Dean studied the mop of Castiel's hair so close in front of him, as Castiel turned around to face away from him.

It felt as natural as breathing to wrap his arm around Castiel's middle and to snuggle up to him. Immediately, he sensed some sort of tension leaving Castiel's body, he was downright melting and becoming lax in Dean's sleepy embrace. Heat spread between them easily as they were spooning, their bodies tightly entangled. Dean rested his forehead against the middle of Castiel's shoulder blades, deeply inhaling his calming, wonderful scent. He felt so peaceful in this second, as close to Castiel as possible. His lids fell shut without further ado and he squeezed the ripped body and held him firmly in his arm, refusing to ever let him go again. It didn't take long and they were dozing off again, not caring about responsibilities or pressing obligations.

…

Around six thirty in the morning, a loud, sudden thump aroused them from their sleep. Confused, Dean withdrew a little from Castiel's heated frame – he raised his bleary head and blinked to sharpen his vision, searching for the source of the noise. Castiel was awake as well, and they stared at Sam staggering in the room, dangerously about to lose his balance. He had stormed through the door unquietly, and had therefore woken them up. Now he was staring at them with an enraged mask of fury, not saying a single thing. Dean's heart missed a beat as he realized Sam was completely sloshed. Had he drunk all night long? Something was badly wrong with Sam, and it upset Dean to see him this way. What the hell had happened to him?

He sat up with a careful motion, holding on to the blanket covering his nudity – the manner in which Sam's blazing eyes were darting over his naked torso made Dean understand Sam had seen enough to put one and one together. He was glaring at Castiel and Dean by turns, his mouth snapping at something to say. Finally, he raised an accusing forefinger at Dean, swaying to and fro in his alcohol stupor.

"I thought you said you broke up? Were you lying to me, Dean? Is that what you are now, a liar?" he slurred, sounding somehow desperate. Dean frowned. He recognized this had nothing to do with whatever it was that was bugging Sam. He didn't even dare to turn his head to face Castiel, he was afraid Sam might snap any second. He hated seeing Sam like this, it reminded him too much of John in his weak moments.

"What is your problem, Sam? Why are you drunk?" he asked calmly, lifting one open palm as a soothing gesture. Sam decided to pace up and down restlessly in the small room, his shoulders rigid and hunched with worries.

"You know, I'm sick and tired of this shit! What do the demons want from me? What makes me so special that they're interested in me? I just want to be normal! I want to be left alone! And you know what? I've had it up to _here_ to wait for you coming up with a safe, clever plan. I need answers, Dean, and I need them now!" Sam exploded, looking at Dean with feverish, frantic eyes as he kept pacing with his long legs. He ran a nervous hand through his brunette hair, biting on his lower lip exasperatedly. He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and studied Dean determinately.

"I'll drive to the devil's gate and see if I can find a demon giving me answers to my questions. I'll somehow make a trap and interrogate them. And I don't need your help or any other help – I'll do it all by myself!" he spat, wobbling slightly on his feet. Dean grabbed a handful of the blanket in a tight fist, feeling his jaw clenching in anxiety. This was madness! Sam couldn't mean that!

"Have you lost your mind?" he yelled back, his whole upper body tensing up. "You don't have back-up, you don't even have some sort of leverage! What makes you think you can accomplish that, huh? Look at you, you're as drunk as a skunk! Even if you managed to draw a devil's trap _and_ catch a demon – why would they give you any answers?"

For once, Dean wanted to slap Sam right in the face. How could he be so childish and irrational? Didn't he trust Dean to watch out for him? Just because he had fallen in love with Castiel didn't mean he couldn't protect Sam as always.

"I have some leverage, don't you worry. They have plans for me? Fine! Bet they don't want to hurt me then – I am the only leverage I need, Dean!"

With that being said, Sam turned on his heel and hastened out of the door. Dean knew he couldn't compete with Sam running away from him, certainly not with his bad leg – Sam could be quick when he wanted to, so Dean found he couldn't do anything but call his name. His troubled, infuriated "Sam!" echoed through the corridors several times, while he still sat in bed, useless and at his wits' end. His eyes fled to Castiel, who stumbled out of the bed swiftly, aiming for the door. He exchanged a sympathetic, brief look with Dean.

"I'll go after him and try to reason with him!" Castiel gasped, and Dean nodded with a grateful smile.

Then Castiel disappeared too and Dean heard his bare feet slapping on the linoleum covered floor, getting further and further away. He scrambled to his feet and searched for his boxer shorts. He donned himself rapidly – his jeans, socks, a black T-shirt and a plaid, long-sleeved shirt. He felt the grim, thoughtful mien he was wearing on his face as he tried to find a solution for this awful situation. Sam had become insane, that much was certain. If he really walked the talk, he would take the Impala to the devil's gate. How was Dean supposed to reach him in time and convince him he was acting stupidly? Maybe he was right, and the demons wouldn't want to hurt him – but that didn't mean they couldn't abduct him or use him for their intentions! He was handing himself to them on a silver platter mindlessly!

It was the moment when he was tying his boots when Castiel returned, breathless with running. Dean looked up expectantly, but Castiel was just shaking his head sadly.

"Couldn't get him. Saw him driving away, too late," he panted. Dean got up and clicked his tongue, racking his brain for a way out. Castiel's hand suddenly landed on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it mildly. He perceived his lover bowing his head and searching for Dean's eyes attentively. When their eyes met, Dean saw the tiniest smile beautifying Castiel's kissable mouth, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to smile too.

"What are we doing now?" Castiel asked – then he let go and reached for his own clothes, putting them on hectically while he kept looking at Dean. The hunter knew he was running out of options with each passing second, Sam already had a time-wise advantage. He really didn't want to drag Castiel into this whole chaos.

"I need a car to follow him. He's heading a few miles out of town. I can still remember the route...," he mumbled, without uttering any commitment he expected from the other man. Castiel slipped into his sneakers and put on his navy blue cardigan.

"I'll get my car and pick you up in ten minutes at the front entrance, alright?" he offered quite naturally, already making for the door. Dean grabbed him by the upper arm and hindered him. He felt melancholy reaching out for him and enveloping him as he studied Castiel smiling serenely and self-confidently at him as they studied each other, raw and honestly. How he had tried to avoid this life devouring Castiel as well, and now he was falling into it despite Dean's futile attempts.

"What are you doing, Cas?" he rasped softly. His heart was overflowing with the loyalty and help Castiel was presenting him. Did he know what he was getting himself into? Castiel smirked unfazed, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Making myself useful," he retorted. Then he leaned in and kissed Dean's cheek sweetly, letting his lips linger sensually on Dean's skin, so that he felt the warm puffs of his breaths colliding with his skin. When Castiel pulled back, his cheeks were flushed and his lids heavy with lust – it seemed they both remembered the last erotic night they had spent together. He moved a step forward and brushed his lips over Dean's carefully, his eyes never releasing Dean's from his intense regard. He applied a fine amount of pressure to kiss Dean, and Dean felt his heart flutter excitedly as he responded to the short, passionate kiss. Vividness and something akin to happiness appeared in Castiel's blue irises as he withdrew at last.

"We're not done yet" he said with a grin, then he winked at Dean and left the room.

…

Castiel was speeding down the road, torturing the Toyota and using all of its horsepower. Dean's eyes often traveled to the other man, examining the resolute expression of his fine face. His blue gems were fixed on the path and sometimes Dean gave directions, but all in all, it was awkwardly silent in the car. Dean tried to keep it together, he was on the verge of cursing repeatedly about Sam. He really hoped they could make it there in time, Sam had already twenty minutes advantage. Once they left the town behind them, Castiel geared up and ignored the speed limit, the car roared loudly. Dean was itching to talk with him about the last night, if only to distract himself from the current mess they were caught in. He knew he would never find peace again if he didn't know Castiel's motives, so he ended the silence.

"Uhm, Cas... I gotta ask. Why did you come to my room yesterday?" he questioned bluntly. Castiel's mouth fell open in surprise and he considered Dean with a fleeting, flustered side glance. Dean thought he could actually see him tense up, how the muscles of his upper arms protruded as his fingers held the steering wheel tighter. For a while, he thought Castiel wasn't going to answer him, because he adamantly focused on the road again and stayed quiet. Pain corded up Dean's throat, it hurt to think they were back to the former, distant behavior around one another. He gulped heavily against the aching lump. Had he overstepped the mark? Maybe last night had been nothing more than a revived passion they had now outlived. Then, thankfully, Castiel made up his mind and opened up to Dean.

"I missed you. That's why. I figured I didn't care about my dignity anymore, at least not when it comes to you. I knew you were going to leave soon, and I thought I'd offer you to be with each other, at least for the remaining days. I rather wanted to have you for a short period of time if I couldn't have you at all. But you weren't there, and I was dog-tired... your scent lulled me to sleep. And that's how you found me."

Castiel's voice was quiet and contemplative, a fond spark gleamed in his eyes. He even smiled tenderly as the memories seeped through his mind. Affection pumped through Dean's heart, he was deeply moved by Castiel's explanation. He comprehended how much he meant to the other man, that he had left such an impression on him that Castiel rather sacrificed his morals than living without him – even if only for a few days. Absent in mind, Dean grasped the hand Castiel had laid on the gear shift, squeezing his slender fingers gently.

He wanted to tell him that he had missed him too, and that he was almost delirious with joy about their reunion – but his face fell as he realized Castiel's smile became melancholic and that bitter tears were welling in his eyes. His hand felt mechanic and lifeless in Dean's, he wasn't responding to his gentle pressure at all.

"I guess I was wrong, Dean. Guess I was holding on to a pipe dream. I was misled to believe I mattered to you. When I offered you to come with you, I meant it, really. But you don't even want me to join you, do you? I never meant to force myself on you, and I'm sorry if I got carried away. Didn't want to put you in an awkward situation," he said quietly, his voice sounded choked with emotions. Dean's jaw dropped, he just couldn't trust his ears anymore! Did Castiel really think that? Sorrow veiled Dean's mind, and he was struck hard by Castiel's stern face. He looked fierce and impossibly sad, a single tear streamed down his cheek, and Dean imploded. He held Castiel's hand with a firm grip, never letting his eyes drift away from his partner.

"Trust me, I want you to come with us. I really do. And you matter a frigging lot to me. I just don't want to drag you into more dangerous situations like these! Do you understand that?" he asked softy, consideration in each of his words. Castiel sniffled and nodded, with his other forearm he wiped over his tear-stained face, then he laughed nervously. Dean knew he needed to concentrate on the road ahead, but they both couldn't resist to regard one another with a loveable glance, and this time, Castiel's fingers encompassed Dean's too and returned the squeeze confirmatively. Dean smiled reassured; Castiel turned his head and focused on the street again.

"I hope you know what you're blundering into, man. We've got to make a plan or something. So, uh... listen. When we get there, there will be demons. A lot of them. You know, they'll look like humans, but trust me, they won't break that easily. Sam has lost his mind, it's a desperate, bone-headed move he's attempting. I fear it will most probably end in blood and tears. I've got to burn a devil's trap into the ground, we should have a flamethrower in my car's trunk. If that won't work, hell, I'll dig the symbol with a shovel! It will keep the demons at bay, they can't pass the lines I drew. You will have to help Sam somehow to keep the demons out of your hair. I will beat every son of a bitch while I can, but the devil's trap has total priority. We can only save our asses once I finished it. Got that?"

Castiel nodded eagerly, though he appeared a bit breathless because of the taken in mass of information.

"Is there a way we can kill those demons?" he wanted to know, his blue eyes containing a wild harshness. Dean feared he was seeking for revenge for what that one demon had done to him. Revenge wasn't the most dignified purpose, but it would work. It would make Castiel fast and bursting with adrenaline. Dean just hoped everything would turn out well, for all of them.

"None that we know of or have adequate means for. We could always exorcise them, but I think it's better to imprison them in a deserted area than letting them loose into civilized country where we can't get our hands on them, don't you think?"

"Alright, I understand," Castiel said, and once more, tense silence filled the small car's interior. Dean gave directions a few times, listening to both their psyched up, accelerated breathing. No more than five minutes and they would be there. He glanced over at Castiel, watching him twisting his plump lower lip between his teeth.

"Are you nervous?" he asked mindlessly, the words slipped away from him before he could stop them. With his right hand, Dean pointed at the sideway, their final destination, and Castiel turned off from the main road. The Impala was parked a few meters ahead of them – no one was in sight. Castiel shut off the engine and smiled tentatively at Dean, looking deeply into his eyes, so that Dean felt all breathless and flustered.

"No. For the first time in a long time, it feels like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. It's a good feeling."

Dean was a bit startled when Castiel approached him, grabbed his head and kissed his lips, hard but briefly. They merged with each other when they shared a deep, passionate kiss, giving and taking as much as they could in the ephemeral moment they had allowed each other. Dean's belly was tingling with anticipation and euphoria, but when they broke apart, he saw the adrenaline dilating Castiel's eyes, and grimness possessed him unyieldingly. They got out of the car.

No one seemed nearby, so he walked straight to the Impala and opened its trunk. He detected the shovel was already missing, as was the flamethrower. The pebbles scrunched under Castiel's shoes as he followed Dean to the parked car. Without speaking, Dean handed him a battle ax and a knife, and Castiel accepted the weapons with a subtle nod. The hunter wandered off to the hell's gate; he felt Castiel's presence behind him as they crept through the undergrowth. Small branchlets crackled under their feet, old, dried leaves rustled treacherously. Once more, it was strangely quiet – no birds chirped, not even the wind stroked through the trees.

They came closer to the clearing, and now speaking voices were audible – a muffled groan reached Dean's ears. He was sure it was Sam. He halted behind a thick tree trunk and dragged Castiel with him. Then he bent his head and peeped at the clearing. Approximately twenty demons were gathered there; their attention was solely focused on Sam, who was kneeling in the middle of them. A buff, nasty guy, wearing a deep frown, held him in an arm lock and forced him to look up at the possessed woman, who was seemingly interrogating him. Even from afar, Dean recognized the innumerable bruises on Sam's face, he looked the worse for wear. Damn it. He knew this was going to happen.

Dean let his gaze wander – on the ground, he detected a half finished, burnt in devil's trap, the flamethrower lay on the grass, forgotten by all of them. He looked back at Castiel, feigning an encouraging smile.

"Here we go," he whispered, then he ran off, as best as he could with his healing leg. He heard Castiel running beside him, and exhilaration expanded in his chest, knowing he wasn't alone in this, that Castiel lent him his support. The demons swung around abruptly, the first started running square towards them with foaming, growling mouths. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean witnessed Castiel raising the ax skillfully, then he stroked a hard blow. The next second, a gush of blood darkened the meadow, a beheaded demon lay there, still trashing around. Dean stared at Castiel, who held the blood-besmeared weapon in his hands, panting with bloodlust. Alright, so maybe he had really underestimated him.

"Okay, you can handle this," he quipped, marveling at the proud grin Castiel gave him.

Then two demons lunged at Dean, and he had to fight for his life – he was dealing blows, giving headbutts, kicking and struggling with all he had. Somewhere in that mess, he heard Sam calling out for him. He had to reach the damn flamethrower and finish the devil's trap; they couldn't fight like this forever. He had a tiny second to glance around, and he saw Castiel injuring the demons, stabbing them and kicking them mercilessly. Sam had somehow managed to get to his feet as well, and now he and Castiel were fighting together, back to back, circling around their offenders with raised fists. Hadn't the circumstances been that severe, Dean would have laughed at their sudden team spirit. For a befogged moment, Dean thought the two of them appeared divine, like two archangels soaked in blood, covering their enemies with wrath and gruesomeness. They brought righteousness, even if their lives were on the line. In that moment, a ray of light struggled through the clouds and enlightened the fighters, and Dean's heart convulsed as he realized how much he loved the two of them, what he was willing to do for them.

Only five demons were left on his side, the majority of them found pleasure in attacking the bold other two. Dean noticed a gap between his foes, and he starting running, aiming for the flamethrower.

**TBC**

Hah, omg, another cliffhanger, forgive me! Well, if you want to brighten my mood, my days, my life – leave me a review and let me know what you think! Smooch smooch 8D (btw, I was so happy to write this chapter and let them come back together again! Oh, btw, I'm currently working on an epilogue as chapter 31)


	27. Chapter 27

Good evening, darlings! Thank you for the lovely reviews I received lately, you're the best! I was a bit worried about Castiel and the axe scene (because later on I thought it was pretty heartless, but, oh well) I want to thank Willbakefordean for her constant support and her patience, your last comment made me laugh with delight =) I think the next chapter is one of my favorite chapters of this story... hope you will like it too =) Oh, btw, this chapter wasn't beta-read, so there might be too many / not enough commas and (hopefully not) other things you might stumble over; if so, you're now encouraged to tell me =) (By the way, I guess it's also the longest chapter of Soft Touch Raw Nerve thehe... structure, what structure)

**Chapter 27**

There was yelling, pained grunts, loud thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Dean tried to not get distracted by the sounds of the ongoing fights, he had to collect all of his trust in Sam and Castiel that they could handle the risky situation on their own. He picked up the flamethrower, downright out of breath and aching with abrasions and bruises all over his body – with a concentrated frown, he continued Sam's almost forfeit work. As soon as the streak of fire cut through the air, smelling of death in its wake, the demons kept their respectful distance. Dean could finish the devil's trap almost unperturbed. He punched a few persistent idiots whenever he could, but the trap mattered more to him.

Sweat was running down his temples, his lungs hurt with every breath. He didn't know how many minutes had passed, but he was certain they were running out of time. He hurried up and singed the grassy forest floor as best as he could. The flamethrower became heavy in his arms, weighing considerable seventy pounds. His sinews were protesting with every move, his fingers started trembling with exhaustion. He drew the last line and completed the devil's trap, boasting with jubilance. Dean let the instrument fall to the ground mindlessly, then he began pushing all demons, who stood outside the lines, into the trap. Castiel must have understood his intentions, for he did the same – it all happened so quickly, the demons didn't even realize what was going on. Sam shoved the last demon into the trap and they hastened to get out of the drawn circle, all huffing and puffing and decorated with countless wounds.

Sam flopped down and sat on the ground cross-legged, holding one hand over his probably sore side, while the demons kept raging and cursing inside the trap pointlessly, trying to get out of it. Sam's whole face was battered and bruised – his nose was bleeding; he had an ugly swollen black eye and several, small cuts. He was staring at Dean confused, a hazy expression clouded his eyes. Castiel stood next to him, one hand placed on Sam's shoulder amicably, for they had fought well together.

Dean's and Castiel's eyes met, and Dean was appalled by the injuries Castiel had received – granted, they were minor, but his forehead was bleeding profusely, and his shirt was ripped and revealed way too many cuts. What startled Dean even more was the bright, vivid gleam in Castiel's eyes as he beheld Dean, and how satisfied he smiled. He had become a warrior. Dean hobbled towards them and stopped in front of Castiel. Carefully, he raised his hand and let his forefinger wipe the sticky blood from Castiel's brow. He was nothing but enchanted when Castiel leaned into the gentle touch of his hand and shut his lids for a second, indulging in the small caress. When Castiel opened his eyes again, the lavender-blue of his irises was shining beautifully with delight, and the smile on his sensual, pink lips broadened.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked worried, and Castiel nodded.

"I feel alive," he answered. Dean felt the fond regard in his own eyes as he smiled at his lover. What a wonderful being he was. He reached out his hand for Sam, and Sam accepted it and got to his feet with a groan. He was still wavering, the drunkenness hadn't left his system yet. Tempestuously, Dean grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and pulled him close, scowling at him. Sam looked horrible, crushed by guilt, his physical wounds and the inebriation of his limbs. When he raised his eyes and regarded Dean, he seemed like the desperate, loveable kid again that Dean had watched over his whole life. Still, he shook Sam ruggedly.

"If you _ever_ do this again, God help me, I'll kill you myself, Sam! Have you any idea how worried I was?" he exclaimed furiously. Sam gritted his teeth, Dean saw his jawline stiffening. He averted his gaze and nodded submissively.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It won't happen again. I'm sorry," he croaked to his shoes, and Dean couldn't help but huff a laugh and wag his head. He sighed lengthily. What was he supposed to do with this dork? With caution, he elevated his hand and brushed Sam's messy, brown hair out of his sight; something akin to parental care bloomed in Dean's chest when Sam looked up, seeking for forgiveness in Dean's features. Dean tried to glare at him intimidatingly, but he couldn't suppress the soft smile that came to his mouth. All things considered, the events could have turned out worse for them. He was happy they were still all alive and not that severely injured. Still, he slapped Sam's face (although placidly, but he wouldn't admit that); Sam gave a short, relieved laugh.

Dean bit on his lower lip, suppressing the urge for more chiding words coming out of him. He turned around and eyed the bunch of demons caught in the devil's trap, giving them the evil eye as they strutted to and fro. A sturdy, ripped male demon cracked his knuckles and feigned an intimidating look, but Dean just scoffed at them and shook his head amusedly. They couldn't do anything to them now.

"What are we doing with these jerks?" he asked aloud, though he was more or less talking to himself as he estimated their time scale. He felt dead certain that the demons wouldn't answer them any of their questions, and the laceration on Castiel's forehead seriously needing some patching up. It unsettled him to regard the man he loved as his face was plunged more and more into scarlet blood, covering one half of his features. Castiel responded to his gaze and blinked against the sun, still smiling as if he wasn't wounded at all. Sam and Dean exchanged a wary look, both silently thinking about several plans they could pursue now.

"They're trapped, right?" Sam retorted at last, shrugging with his shoulders. "I'd say we leave them here and come back later, then we can strengthen the trap. And we should totally call Bobby and ask him if he knows a way to close this damn gate again."

Dean nodded pensively. It annoyed him to do nothing about the demons, he hated walking away from a fight, but it couldn't be helped. He held out his palm and raised his eyes, grumbling "car keys" sternly. Sam fumbled for them with a theatrical sigh, rolling his eyes at Dean.

"I can drive, you know?" he provoked, but Dean just snatched the keys and scowled at his younger brother.

"Sam, I may not have always set a perfect example, but you're not driving when you're still that drunk. I could give you a whipping for doing it in the first place. And I won't risk you damaging the car or either of us. So get in the passenger seat and shut up."

Sam obviously was going to make a stand against Dean's words, but Dean compressed his lips tightly and raised his eyebrows, warning Sam wordlessly to try and pick up a fight with him and see where it would lead them. It took one second and Sam swung around and trotted away to the Impala, which was parked a few hundred meters off. Dean heard his Sasquatch-brother's feet rustle through the undergrowth, getting further away with each step. Dean used the brief, secluded moment to devote himself fully to Castiel, who stood patiently and silently next to him, his eyes scanning Dean's features with devotion and honest adoration. Hell, his eyes were practically gleaming with love for Dean. A twitchy smile got the better of Dean and he closed the tiny gap between them and placed his palms on Castiel's cheeks, cupping them mildly. His thumbs brushed over the prominent cheekbones gently, he couldn't help but stare into those lovely, periwinkle blue eyes darting over his features.

He was rapt with the beauty in front of him, so much so that he was breathing shallowly and quaveringly against Castiel's chapped, plump lips. In that moment, he didn't give a damn about the demons probably watching them, though he could still hear their constant murmurs and snide remarks. He was simply overwhelmed with infatuation for his lover, as he let his palms come down and skim along Castiel's back, encircling his hips firmly. Castiel's lids fluttered shut and he moved against Dean, a sensual expression graced him, as his lips slightly opened up, expecting Dean's kisses longingly.

Dean leaned in and accepted the invitation. He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against Castiel's, just as he pulled him near and brought their torsos tempestuously together. The adrenaline of the former fight still pumped in their bodies and therefore their kiss swiftly became wild and passionate. Castiel's fingers dug into Dean's shoulders, clinging to him desperately as Dean's tongue broke open his lips and as it slid slowly together with Castiel's; their lips brushed over one another erotically. Blindly, Dean smelt Castiel's ferrous blood and his masculine sweat. A terrible greed awoke inside of him and throbbed in the pit of his stomach, the greed to devour Castiel completely and consume him as much as he wanted. Castiel felt so pliant in his arms, so soft and hard in all the right places. Dean's head spun madly when the thought crossed his mind that he had found a lover and fighter coincidentally, someone he could actually share every aspect of his life with.

When they broke apart, Castiel's cheeks were rosy-tinted and his eyes befuddled with lust. His lips shimmered with the remnants of their kisses, he looked most delicious. Dean licked his lips nervously, his whole body subtly shaking with want and need. How he wanted to dive into Castiel and show him how much he appreciated him for being who he was... But there was no time now. He carefully stroked along Castiel's temple, wiping some blood away that was already drying.

"We'll drive to the motel Sam's staying in and treat our wounds, alright? Just follow me with your car," he said quietly, his voice roughened with desire. Castiel nodded and grasped Dean's hand resting on his side of the face, intertwining their fingers affectionately. He brought their hands down and launched into leaving this scenery behind. Dean inhaled deeply, his chest tightening with ecstasy, as Castiel's thumb fondled the back of his hand. They walked away hand in hand, not paying attention to the demons calling nasty things after them.

…

Luckily, the drive back into town didn't take long. It was the first time in weeks that Dean sat behind a steering wheel again. His leg wasn't hindering him overly, but he felt the strain in his muscles, how unusual the motions of accelerating or using the brakes had become. Though he lacked a certain kind of fine motor skills, he was sure he was still driving better than a drunken Sam. It pleased him beyond all comparison to drive his baby again, to hear the healthy roar of her engine. Damn it, he didn't even felt like listening to some music, her noises were all he wished to hear. During the ride, Sam leaned against the passenger door, snoring quietly. Over and over again, Dean's eyes fled to his younger brother, he was still worried about his thoughtless deed. He hoped to God this was the last time Sam made such a mess of things. The anger had long left the older Winchester, now concern gnawed at his soul. All he wanted was Sam to be alright and not be constantly hopeless about their lives. Was that too much to ask for?

He steered the Impala masterfully to the motel's parking lot, switching off the motor. Just when he woke up Sam, who grunted in protest, Dean noticed Castiel's car parking next to his. They stumbled into Sam's motel room then, Sam plopping down on a chair, Castiel taking a seat on the single bed. Dean comprehended quickly that none of them was fit to fetch the stuff they needed, so he rummaged through Sam's bag, knowing where his brother usually kept their first aid box. He heard Sam screwing open a bottle of whiskey and gulping the alcohol down greedily. Dean's eyes shot up from where he was crouching, his brows pulled together in disbelief.

"Sam, you were just sobering up, for Christ's sake! Let me give you some pain killers and stop drinking, you boozehound!" he ranted.

He approached the slumped body of his brother, handed him aspirins and a cool pad he had found in the fridge. Sam put it on his violet swollen eye and swallowed the pills dry, allowing Dean to take the whiskey bottle out of his hand. Dean took a lengthy gulp of it and placed it away, concentrating his attention on Castiel again. His partner sat unperturbed on the mattress, his hands idly resting in his lap, as he examined Dean and Sam interacting. Dean walked up to him with the first aid kit and they smiled hesitantly at each other. He situated one of his knees between Castiel's slightly spread thighs on the bed, resting part of his weight on that leg, as he palpated Castiel's still bleeding wound. He knew Sam was watching them, felt his prying eyes burning on his back, but for the love of God, he couldn't care about it. He tilted his head and kissed Castiel's warm forehead gingerly, breathing his beguiling scent in as he let his mouth linger on his skin. His heart thudded heavily against his chest as he heard Castiel's appreciative, low hum.

Dean worked fast then. He withdrew a little to get a fine needle and thread. He used an antiseptic agent to clean the wound of dirt and germs, wiping over Castiel's forehead with a clean cloth; Castiel's whole body tensed up and he hissed. Dean looked down and tried to estimate Castiel's pain perception. There was no way they could numb the area with a local anesthesia, therefore they would have to drive to a local hospital where they asked unnecessary questions. This treatment had to be sufficient. Castiel gritted his teeth and said nothing, he just beheld Dean with grim, challenging eyes and a fond smile, so Dean took a deep breath and brought the needle through the thin layer of skin around the wound. Castiel was groaning with pain, but he endured each careful stitch better than Dean would have thought. His life as a hunter had rarely given him the opportunity to end up in a hospital or with a doctor who took care of his injuries professionally. While he worked concentrated and in silence, he remembered that year of his childhood in which he had broken his arm. John had put his broken bones together with sudden force, and it had hurt like hell, but it had healed and that was the main point.

Castiel broke the brooding silence between the three of them, suddenly addressing Sam to Dean's surprise.

"Sam, I know we don't know each other well, but I think we'd be getting along. I want to join you two. I wanna go with you."

Dean's insides froze at that, he felt cold and hot at the same time. He swallowed against the painful lump in his throat, choking on a multitude of emotions. He was deeply moved as Castiel reclined his head to look up into Dean's face; he studied the man in front of him while he continued stitching up his wound, his eyes skittered over those damn blue ones. He felt delirious with happiness when he saw Castiel's lips showing a calm, collected smile. He was glad Castiel had mentioned his wish so blatantly to Sam, because Dean didn't know how to put all his thoughts and feelings in words. He finished Castiel's now stitched up wound and averted his eyes, awaiting Sam's reaction without turning around to his brother.

"What do you mean, go with us? As in being on the road 24/7? Don't get me wrong, man, I'm sure you're tough. I mean, you kind of proved that today when you worked those bastards over. But do you really know what you're asking for?"

"I told him, Sam. I didn't whitewash the facts and he knows what to expect," Dean said quietly, exchanging a tender, meaningful glance with Castiel. He couldn't withstand running a hand through Castiel's smooth, dark hair lovingly, feeling him leaning in to the subtle caress, his lids almost falling shut. He heard Sam inhaling deeply, then some shuffling as he got to his feet. Dean stood up as well and observed Sam and Castiel looking at each other, both wearing serious, solemn countenances, though no quarrel seemed to thrive between them.

"Alright, I get it. Castiel, can I talk to you outside?" Sam asked with lifted brows, ignoring Dean's gaping mouth and his confused eyes completely. What was Sam up to? Was he trying to brainwash Castiel? Did he want to persuade him to let go of this mad chimera and hold on to his normal, quiet life instead? A rather uneasy look settled down on Castiel's face as he considered Dean fleetingly, probably asking himself the same questions, but then he arose with a groan and said "Sure," heading for the door nonchalantly. When the two men exited the room, leaving Dean behind without further words, Dean felt beyond weird and left out. Sam had never been like this, never this secretive. They never hid anything from one another, so Dean was somewhat hurt about Sam's behavior. He was dying to hear what they were talking about, and though he thought of himself as childish and silly, he found his feet tiptoeing to the door automatically. He leaned his ear against the painted compressed wood, thanking the cheap material for being so thin. Stupefied with tension, he barely dared to breathe, fearing he wouldn't catch the dialogue between Sam and his lover.

"I just want to ensure you know enough about Dean to give up your life here for him, alright? I get it, you two are kind of a thing, and obviously he's important enough for you to consider this step. But listen to someone who knows Dean all his life. He's never been in a relationship. Only once, and that lasted for no more than a few weeks," Sam explained, sounding muffled through the door separating him from Dean. At these words, Dean winced, feeling hot tears of embarrassment welling in his eyes. He clenched one fist in frustration and self-hate. So this was what that was about. Sam was elaborating what Castiel would have to brace himself for when he decided to continue this relationship with Dean.

"And I've never seen him react to someone this way, so I guess you're very special to him too. I won't stand between you two, I promise. But I need to know neither of you get hurt, okay? You did a lot for Dean within the last weeks, and I'm grateful for that. And I know he is very happy with you, I mean, he's practically radiating mirth. You don't deserve getting harmed by him, and I don't want you to break my brother's heart either. Did I make myself clear?"

Dean was crying by now, laughing nervously to himself as he wiped one tear from his face with trembling fingers. Sam, that little son of a bitch. He was thankful for having such a brother, who was so concerned about his well-being. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from Dean's shoulders, everything was falling into place now. Though he and Castiel had never spoken directly about it, he knew he mattered to the other man and that he loved him. He didn't even let his mind wander off to the direction that Castiel would decide against him, he couldn't dwell on these negative thoughts. He had heard enough. Slowly, he walked back to the bed and sat down, holding his head in his hands as he let the tears flow unstoppably. He was so spellbound with bliss, he didn't know what to do about it as lightness expanded in his whole body. It were tears of joy running down his cheeks in small rivulets, he was actually hiccuping he was so upset. The stress and the burden of the last weeks faded away. Somehow, it was easier to breathe.

Castiel and Sam stepped into the room again, both seemingly a bit awkward, for their faces were plunged into a tomato-red. The emotional detachment between the two men must have crumbled away though, Sam had slung one arm amicably around Castiel's shoulder, shaking him encouragingly while mischief gleamed in his green eyes. They were both grinning broadly, and when Dean's tear-dimmed eyes locked with Castiel's and when Sam said "As far as I'm concerned, Castiel is in the same boat now," it sounded like a sentence directly ripped out of a dream to Dean. He was barely aware of his body's movements, but he realized he was standing up again. His legs had turned to jelly, butterflies were raging savagely in his tummy. His heart leapt into his throat. He smiled at Castiel through his tears, deeply affected when he saw him fighting against his own tears as he stepped towards Dean. It felt magical and most natural to twine his arms around Castiel's waist and draw near, their hipbones bumping together. Dean brought their foreheads together and closed his eyes, sighing agitatedly. His personal dream was becoming real, and he had never thought this would actually happen.

He felt weightless, his heart thundered inside of him. Shaky, moist breaths of his lover fanned against his lower lip, luring Dean to close the merest distance between them. He planted a firm kiss on Castiel's yielding mouth, sensing the smile on his lips. It was contagious, and Dean was soon smiling too. Then they morphed into emotion-driven beings and shared more intoxicating kisses. As their lips skimmed over one another, only to intensify their open-mouthed kisses again with fine pressure, Dean vibrated with love and satisfaction. His hands wandered up and down Castiel's back, stroking and squeezing him gently; he felt Castiel pressing his body closer and closer to his, it was so very strenuous to hold back the affection they felt for each other in this moment. It was the impossible wish they had both had for weeks, which was now coming true, contrary to their expectations.

"God, I'm not sure whether you guys give me a headache or diabetes, you're too sweet!" Sam bantered – chuckles erupted from both Dean and Castiel, and they stopped kissing to regard one another, marveling at the evident pleasure bouncing vividly in their eyes. Dean slung his arms around Castiel's neck and pulled him into a firm, intimate embrace, pillowing his jaw on his partner's shoulder. He felt Castiel's answering fingers holding his back, keeping him close as his body fused perfectly with Dean's. Their hectic breaths were tuned to one another as their chests collided again and again. Over Castiel's shoulder, Dean looked at Sam, who was smiling at them fondly. His and Dean's eyes met, and they shared a long, understanding look. Dean's mouth shaped a mute "Thank you," and Sam grinned sheepishly, answering with a whispered "You deserve it". Castiel must have heard those words too, for he squeezed Dean and held him even tighter, unwilling to ever let go again.

…

The day was still early when Dean and Castiel said goodbye to Sam, the position of the sun hinted at lunchtime. They left the Impala to him, and Dean warned him to never drive drunk again; Castiel drove them back to the rehab-center, holding Dean's hand gently in his all the while (Dean thanked the automatic transmission of the Toyota for allowing them this sweet opportunity). The short ride was silent, each man absorbed in his own thoughts about what the future might bring them. Dean was somewhat astonished when Castiel parked the car and got out to accompany Dean back inside, but when they neared the reception desk, a particular premonition coursed through his mind, as if he was guessing what Castiel was up to. He kept his respectful distance as he watched Castiel walking over to Karen, smiling grimly at her as her mouth fell open in shock as she discerned his bruised face.

Dean stood within earshot, he simply couldn't resist. Subconsciously, he compressed his lips tightly and listened attentively to the conversation. Karen seemed upset, she leaned over the desk to take Castiel's hand caringly in hers, staring up in his eyes.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked amazed, letting one careful forefinger trail over the stitches of his forehead's wound. Castiel shooed her gentle finger slowly away, smiling at her understandingly and holding her hand in his. Dean observed them silently, not sure whether he liked their close proximity, but he was ninety-nine percent certain only friendship existed between them (at least on Castiel's side. He wasn't too clear about Karen's motives, though).

"I'm here to quit my job, Karen. Can you give me the adequate form, please?"

Dean's jaw as well as Karen's dropped – of course, in the back of his head, he had known this was inevitable if Castiel wanted to join them. But hearing him say it like this, unsheathing like this... A tender smile crawled to Dean's lips as he felt the huge knot in his throat, strangling him with nothing but love for the other man. It showed how serious Castiel was about them. Karen moved robotic, her eyes barely leaving Castiel's as she rummaged around in some drawers nervously until she found the form Castiel had asked for. Castiel didn't waste time, then. He took a ballpoint from the reception desk and filled out the form with determination written all over his face.

"Why are you leaving? And so suddenly...," Karen questioned, her voice gentle as she leaned forward again, coming dangerously close to Castiel as her eyes considered her hitherto colleague highly interested. Castiel kept writing, but he inclined his head in Dean's direction and smiled happily.

"I'm going with him. Once he's being released, of course," he explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, to quit your job and run off with someone to who-knows-where. Karen must have thought the same thing, because she grasped Castiel's hand and held it firmly in hers, hindering him from writing, her eyes searching for his. When their eyes met, she lowered her voice, not even gracing Dean with a look.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? You've changed so much in the last weeks, Castiel. You were sick and moody, and now you're wounded and resigning out of the blue! I'm just worried about you."

At hearing that, Dean sensed pangs of guilt biting him sharply, any idea of felicity vanished into thin air. He studied Castiel, alarmed that he might decide against him at last. Karen was right. He had turned the other man's life upside down, he had brought chaos, he had disrupted his neat, comfortable life. It wasn't a surprise that someone questioned Castiel's choices and tried to get through to him to rethink his recent behavior Though he had never got to know Karen extensively, and although he had thought of her as a threat regarding Castiel's heart, Dean was somehow relieved that she honestly cared about Castiel, that he had a friend like her.

And then Castiel turned around to him, smiling happily from ear to ear and slowly blinking at Dean kindly. Dean felt short of breath, totally dumbstruck. Enraptured, he let that smile envelop him, encompassing him like a warm duvet, dispelling all his doubts and persistent worries. Castiel's smile even widened when Dean felt his own mouth twitch and offer a hesitant, shy smile back.

"I'm dead certain," Castiel declared, nodding subtly at Dean. In that moment, Dean felt so special, so important to Castiel, his chest was _exploding_ with elation, his head was swimming. He didn't exactly know why he deserved someone who loved him like that, who risked that much to be with him... He didn't understand what Castiel saw in him, why he deemed Dean unique enough to be his lover. But, for Christ's sake, Dean wouldn't let this chance pass, he wouldn't waste it. He swore to himself to try his best and be the best partner Castiel could have asked for. There was nothing he wanted more than making the other man happy, because then Dean was happy as well. He smiled satisfied and reassured; Castiel turned around again and finished filling out the form, talking with Karen friendly. He told her she could always call him and promised to keep in touch with her. She was a little devastated when Castiel told her he would leave the town for good, she even cried a bit and Dean felt truly sorry for her.

They changed the topic of their conversation then to business matters, that Castiel could be released from duty instantly, bridging the two weeks of notice period with paid vacation. He would get his last salary for this month and then that would be it; it was obvious he was a free man now. The conversation hadn't taken more than five minutes, but these minutes had been important and life-changing. Dean felt rather out of place when he watched Karen and Castiel hugging, her arms wrapped around his neck, while Castiel held her smaller frame lovingly. He agreed to say goodbye to her properly before he left for good, then they broke off, both smiling tentatively. Karen wiped over her pale cheek and grinned sheepishly at Dean, raising a moral pointing finger at him.

"You take care of him, mister, you hear me?" she bantered, and they all chuckled lightly, affected by a thousand exciting emotions rumbling inside of them. Dean rubbed over his neck abashedly, feeling the intense blush creeping on his cheeks. He looked up from underneath his lashes with half-lidded eyes, catching the warmhearted expression gleaming in Castiel's deep blue eyes as he beheld Dean pensively. He absorbed that look greedily, letting it cut straight through his heart and remain there for lonesome nights. Castiel smiled lovingly, blinking slowly at Dean, and Dean knew he would take care of him, in every way imaginable.

…

From this Friday on, Janet became Dean's permanent therapist – he only had one week left of his stay here, so it wasn't a big deal for him. He would miss Castiel training together with him, though, but he knew there would be enough weeks and months coming in which he would see the other man, he could consider himself content at that prospect. Castiel had pressed a few firm kisses on Dean's mouth before he had returned to his apartment, cradling Dean in his arms tenderly and whispering in his ear to come around this evening. For the next hours, Dean couldn't help but stay as red as a beetroot, his cheeks were flaming with excitement. Janet scolded him for "skipping" the first training session this morning and that he was so spaced out during their afternoon workout, but she smiled indulgently at Dean when she asked who he was drooling over and he could just reply with something inaudibly stuttered.

He and Castiel had phoned around six, and Castiel had sounded drained, admitting that it wasn't so easy to clear out his apartment and burn all bridges behind him. He told Dean he had already given notice to his landlord to quit the residence, and his landlord had been accommodating, offering Castiel to pay only one more monthly rent instead of the usual three. Dean was impressed when Castiel listed all the contracts he had terminated within a few hours – he tended to forget "normal" people always had a bunch of liabilities. He only had his cellphone, which he frequently changed, and his car – and even the auto insurance was faked. Castiel and he agreed on meeting around eight, thus giving Castiel more time to sort his things out.

After Castiel had hung up, Dean had called Sam, making sure he was alright and not drinking again. Sam listened to Dean telling him about Castiel getting rid of his possessions, and Sam offered his help without even being asked. Dean smiled and gave Sam Castiel's number, so that they could make plans for the next days. Once you had Sam's blessing, there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. Dean mused he would probably help Castiel sell a lot of his stuff, even his car if he decided to leave that behind as well, and make a considerable profit of the situation. Money was the littlest thing Dean contemplated on, they had always made ends meet.

It was another small success when Dean got ready for heading off to Castiel's place and when he slipped on his right boot carefully, a boyish grin coming to his mouth. The metallic bandage, that had supported his injured calf, had been removed a few days ago. He gaped at his feet, _both_ clad in his beloved boots, and he was so pleased with this progress, he even wiggled his toes against the soles. From outside, fresh, spicy air blew through the tilted window; it was already dark, though the sky was illuminated with a billion bright stars and the white, full moon casting long shadows. Dean bounced from his bed and donned his leather jacket, whistling cheerfully to himself as he left his room.

He strolled through the park, his hands packed away in his jacket pockets, his gait almost swinging. He glanced around the quiet, forsaken park, smelling the damp lawn, seeing the moonlight resting on green, soft leaves. He reclined his head and stopped for a moment, admiring the moon and the stars twinkling above him benevolently on the cloud-free firmament. He smiled to himself, listening to his inner ear. He inhaled the clean air deeply and laughed for himself, carefree and as jubilant as probably possible. For the first time since half an eternity, he was deeply relaxed and happy to the very core of his heart. It had been a long while since he had felt that way, in the depth of his soul he remembered what it was like to be loved and offering love in return. In his mind's eye, he saw Castiel smiling tenderly at him, a hot shudder ran down his sensitive spine. All this pain – from his mother's death to being dragged into this crude life, to his father sacrificing himself for Dean to Sam being harassed by evil – for the nonce, all this pain was forgotten. It was replaced by the knowledge of being in love with Castiel and being ardently loved in return.

When Castiel opened the door to him a few minutes later, Dean lunged at him and flung his arms around him, holding and squeezing him hard, burying his nose in his lover's hair. He was so grateful for having the other man, he found no words. After a short moment of surprise, Castiel returned the hug in the same frantic manner and showered Dean's neck with airy, sweet kisses, shushing him and whispering quiet words in his ear, effectively calming him down. Castiel understood, for he was feeling the same way.

…

Dean wandered around Castiel's apartment aimlessly, his mouth gaping, his eyes widened. He just couldn't believe how fast Castiel had wiped the slate clean. Almost all of his shelves in the living room were disjointed in their individual parts, leaning against an empty wall meaningfully. There were a few moving boxes, probably stuffed with Castiel's books, CDs and DVDs. The place looked abandoned, and somehow, a definite peacefulness dwelt inside this blankness. It was obvious that the person inhabiting this flat was moving on to another stage of their life, another unwritten chapter.

Dean perceived the silvery moonlight mingling with the warm, tangerine light of a dimmed floor lamp, creating fine stains of light on the parquet. He was too occupied with his hazy thoughts, just vaguely pondering that the different light sources resembled his and Castiel's life. Castiel was a heartwarming and homely person, trapped in the secure confines of his apartment, whereas Dean was like the moon, alone and cold in the surrounding darkness, revolving around the earth endlessly, hungering and pining for it. And now that their lights touched, their lives became one, combining the best facets of both.

He caught Castiel's mellow look, how his partner regarded him calm and silently, a passionate fire in his eyes, as he leaned against the ajar balcony door. Dean felt stupefied with love and affection, his blood roaring loud in his reddening ears. He tried to smile, but found he was too enchanted to do just that – Castiel winked at him confidently, wiggling with two opened beer bottles and with a tilt of his head signaling Dean to join him outside. Dean was all fidgety with exuberant sensations, his limbs felt weightless, as he walked up to Castiel. The dark-haired man already sat on the ground on various layers of pillows and blankets, looking up to Dean mischievously as he sipped on his beer. Once more, Dean wasn't too sure where to sit down, for the balcony hadn't become larger since the last time he had shared this place with Castiel. With a groan, he lowered himself and came to rest right behind Castiel, including the smaller man's figure between his spread, hoisted legs. Castiel acted on the wordless request and reclined his upper body, until his back was comfortably pressed against Dean's chest.

Dean couldn't resist, he bent forward and kissed the delicate nape of his lover gently, letting his warm breath ghost over the smooth skin repeatedly. He drank in the enchanting scent of Castiel's hair as he brought his nose to it, feeling each tiny fiber of every strand. Struck by longing, Dean put his arm around Castiel's waist, snuggling up to him. He smiled deeply contented when Castiel let his head fall back, leaning it against the crook of Dean's neck trustfully. With his other hand, Dean grabbed his own bottle of beer and took a few gulps, enjoying the cold liquid wetting his throat. For a few minutes, convenient silence remained between them as they drank their beers and gazed at the stars and the beautiful night all around them. It was like they both understood they were on the verge of another life, one that promised love and intimacy and togetherness, and all they could do was stare and try to make sense of it, trying to grasp they deserved this gift.

It didn't take long, and the speechlessness made room for quiet, blithesome conversations. Castiel relaxed visibly, becoming lax in Dean's arm and merging with his frame easily. Dean couldn't see his face, but he felt his hot, slightly trembling exhales fanning against his jaw and throat constantly, causing churning heat and lust in his abdomen. The familiar warmth growing between their sandwiched bodies was distracting as well... Dean had a hard time not getting stiff in his pants, he swallowed against the huge lump in his throat as his fingers dug into Castiel's belly firmer. He listened to Castiel, telling him about Sam calling him today, suggesting he should store some of his stuff in a rented storage yard.

"He said I should make a plan B, just in case. You know, should I decide to leave you two some day – I said that wouldn't happen, but he was adamant. So, whatever, I will deposit some of my possessions in a warehouse."

Dean nodded against Castiel's head, bringing his face down so that he could hide it on the younger man's shoulder. He knew he must have looked desperate, holding on to Castiel so tightly and breathing him in greedily, but he just couldn't help it. His heart boomed furiously in his chest, with every second it became harder to fight the words rising up inside of him.

"What do you think... how will our lives look like once we've departed? I tried to imagine it, but maybe you could paint me a clearer picture," Castiel said, almost in a whisper, endearment ringing in his low voice. Dean huffed a soft laugh, then he showered his lover's night-chilled cheek with countless, short kisses. He sighed and moved even closer, feeling how he and Castiel both held their heads in the same direction, contemplating the starry sky ahead of them, a gorgeous spectacle of light and shadow. It was then that Dean noticed Castiel was shivering somewhat, his torso mildly vibrating against Dean's; he was only wearing a light shirt with three-quarter sleeves. Dean pulled back and placed his empty bottle on the ground and took off his heavy leather jacket, draping it around Castiel's broad shoulders lovingly to keep him warm.

Castiel turned his face and smiled enamored at Dean, his rosy, ripe lips forming a touched smile. He extinguished the petty distance between them and pressed a long-lasting, hard kiss against Dean's cheek that burnt right through Dean's heart. Dean returned to his former position, but now he wrapped both arms around Castiel's lean upper body, letting his forearms slide under his armpits and holding him close. For a few seconds, they moved together with every breath, like tidal waves in an endless game of ebb and flow. They both studied the romantic scenery unfurling in front of them; Dean smiled dreamily as he watched the stars blinking vividly, seemingly so close that he could reach out his hand and pick them off for Castiel. He was so infatuated with this situation, with holding Castiel so close and hearing his every breath, the next time he spoke, his voice was husky and faint.

"We would drive through the country most of the time... get to know a lot of people. We would fight and be fought. You would see all kinds of things, Cas... Brilliant, beautiful things. Things that will frighten you, make you sick. But I will watch over you, I'll take care of you. I'll keep you save... you know, Sammy and I used to share a motel room, but I think he lost that privilege. I want to hold you every night, just like this, and feel your breath..."

Gingerly, as if Castiel was a fragile flower, an expensive artwork, Dean let his hands glide over his lover's upper arms, feeling him shudder under his subtle caress. He pressed his nose against Castiel's temple, letting his erratic breaths meet the slight stubble there. Castiel sighed lengthily, sounding agonized with pleasure and yearning. He was alternating between becoming rigid and limp in Dean's arms over and over again. Dean shut his lids, letting the turmoil of emotions get the better of him. He was so head over heels in love with Castiel, it almost hurt. He was light-headed, dizzy even.

"There will also be quieter days, when you feel drained and disillusioned with life. And maybe we won't talk for hours at a time while we drive the whole day through. But that's alright, because I know there is nothing that will come between us...," Dean whispered, feeling Castiel's closeness gradually affecting him. His cock awoke in his pants and hardened, the head of it slowly but surely leaking with precome. Castiel must have felt it too, for he pressed his lower back hard against Dean and sucked in a shaky breath. A single, guttural moan left him when Dean's hands wandered down and when he entwined their fingers fondly.

"Do you think we can make it? I don't want to screw this up, Dean. I don't want to waste this chance... I'm so afraid you might grow tired of me eventually and drop me," Castiel murmured, breathless with anxiety. Dean fell silent for a moment, reflecting on his own thoughts about that. Of course, he knew "forever" was a long time, and he wasn't sure he could keep any promise and stay with Castiel until they both died... but he knew his heart well enough to feel certain this thing with him and Castiel would last a considerable, indefinite amount of time.

"Don't say that," he replied softly, kissing Castiel's temple a few times. "I have faith in us... Let's just take every day as it comes, alright?"

And it was true. Usually, Dean always was the pessimistic one, seeing ends when things were just starting... but when it came to Castiel, he felt brave and confident about their future. He couldn't even imagine a life without him anymore, wondered how he had survived without him in the first place. Castiel nodded and squeezed Dean's slender, cool fingers holding his. A twitchy smile tugged at Dean's lips when a song whirred in his mind, urging him to sing it to his lover because it spoke to him so perfectly, showing exactly how he was feeling about his and Castiel's relationship. He brought his mouth to Castiel's ear, Castiel winced with ardent longing when Dean's hot breath entered his ear seductively. Very quietly, Dean started singing with his dark voice, letting it sink into Castiel's ear. The song was only meant for him, and it meant so much to Dean, he couldn't ban the slight tremor in his voice.

"Amazing grace... how sweet the sound.. that saved a wretch... like me... I was once lost... but now I'm found. Was blind, but now I see...," he sang, cradling Castiel gently but foolishly in his arms to the rhythm of the song. Dean wondered at which part he had become this lovestruck man, who would do anything for the person he had fallen for... Whether he had this inside of him all his life or whether Castiel had turned him into this – but it didn't matter, because he was happy, as happy as he could possibly be. He heard Castiel's soft smile, and the sudden, intense feeling growing between them must have been mutual – when their eyes met, Dean had no ounce of willpower left. He admired Castiel's fair, blue eyes... how the moonlight was mirrored in them as they scanned Dean's face, how the stars sparkled in his irises like a million gems. Everything inside of Dean was a chaos of adrenaline, infatuation, and the urge to keep this man for himself as long as he could. He placed one hand on Castiel's cool, porcelain cheek, cupping it as he looked him deep and steadily in the eyes, feeling moved when Castiel's mouth fell slightly open in awe.

"I love you, Castiel. With all my heart," he confessed, his chest tightening and bursting with elation. For too long, those words had danced on the tip of his tongue, mocking him for his fear of being rejected. Castiel's fingers clutched Dean's harder, clenching and unclenching nervously. Dean smiled melancholic when he watched Castiel's tongue licking over his bottom lip, his pupils widely dilated with excitement. Dean was drowning in the tender flame dancing in Castiel's eyes, his heart was permeated with a lightness that put a touched smile on his mouth.

"I love you too," Castiel cooed; then he breathed out tensely and let his forehead drop against Dean's, his lids fluttering shut. Within the fracture of a second, Castiel's hand untangled from Dean's and he enveloped Dean in a complicated, one-armed hug. Dean laughed and wrapped his arms around Castiel's back and pulled him in his lap with one lissome move. With half-closed eyes, he looked up at Castiel's face hovering so very close above his. Castiel slung his arms around Dean's neck and made sheep's eyes at him, smiling hesitantly at the older man. Dean was basking in the knowledge that his feelings were reciprocated, that Castiel had fallen in love with him too. Ecstasy bubbled hotly in Dean's whole body, like water boiling in a whirlpool, when he detected Castiel's eyes became heavy-lidded with a ferventness that spoke volumes. He didn't know whether he moved upwards or whether Castiel came down, but the next second, their mouths collided and they shared frantic, vehement kisses, almost bruising their lips. Castiel let his fingers run through Dean's hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and tugging at it to guide Dean harder against Castiel's mouth. Their heads were bent to opposite directions as they fused together effortlessly.

This night, they made love in Castiel's bed over and over again. Dean worshiped Castiel's body laid out underneath him extensively, making sure the other came hard and multiple times, while Dean accompanied him through every of his intense orgasms. When their sweat-soaked bodies rocked together, Dean was downright mesmerized with the beauty writhing and moaning in the sheets, lolling and tensing in all the right ways. It still fascinated Dean that he was the one giving Castiel these feelings, forcing him to lose control and give in to nothing but a sensual frenzy. At some point, they were dozing off, Dean lying heavily on top of Castiel – their legs were entangled, their bodily fluids intermingled intimately. Dean fell asleep to the cozy feeling of Castiel's warm palms skimming over his back gently, reminding him of safety and wonderful contentment.

**TBC**

Whooooo, so many emotions...!? I never get over a tender Dean taking care of his beloved -sobs a little- the song he sang was of course "Amazing Grace", the traditional song everybody knows, right? =) Soooooooo? What do you thiiiiink? =)


	28. Chapter 28

Hello you cutie pies! How is everyone doing, still alive? Thanks for your feedback and for the lovely PMs I received! Sorry for the late late laaaate update / and thanks for your interest in asking for another! A few lame excuses as to why there wasn't an update last week: Busy life. Busy busy busy life. Even though I had a few days holiday! Buuut, I used those to work on my novel attempt (yeah, sobs laughs screams) and to visit several doctors, yada yada yada. Also, I'm now in a works committee, which is very time-consuming and nerve-wracking (bunch of assholes). AAND, I brought my lovely old car to the workshop, only to be informed its Last Day has come (aka will be sold for scrap). You see, a lot is going on in my life atm – sobs – And I know it is an absolute absurdity that I didn't post this chapter even though STRN is completed with 30 chapters! But, another excuse for that – I'm totally addicted to my wonderful, amazing, talented, gorgeous beta-reader Angelphoenixwings14 and her improvement suggestions. They really make a subtle but loveable difference! So, try combining two lives to one result, and here you are. Thanks a lot to your input darling, especially for the Bobby part and his characterization help! So, the long and the short of it – chapter 28:

**Chapter 28**

It is said 'time flies when you're having fun', and apparently, that saying was true. Ever since that eventful last Friday, things had changed for the better. Each day was filled with a lot of mirth while the hours elapsed rapidly and went by unnoticed. Now that it was decided Castiel was coming with them, the arguments between Sam and Dean were reduced to a healthy minimum. Dean opened up to Sammy about Castiel trustfully, confessed how much it meant to him that they had Sam's blessings, and that Castiel was more than just an ephemeral crush. Sam had just smiled that boyish smile and mumbled something, embarrassed and with averted eyes, but Dean knew he truly appreciated his older brother's words.

Dean and Castiel made use of the given time they had left in Castiel's hometown. That weekend, they actually went on a few short but sweet dates, as if the world was a normal, safe place – but in the end, they always returned to Castiel's apartment in a mute agreement, understanding each other's needs without words but with a single, heated look. They winded up either in Castiel's bed, on his couch or on the floor, their bodies entangled and caught in passionate intercourse.

Dean was grateful for the privacy they still had; it gave him the opportunity to savor Castiel almost everywhere in his apartment, several times during the weekend. When he parted from his lover on Sunday evening, his limbs felt sore and his muscles ached. Castiel's cheeks were still reddened and his eyes drooping with exhaustion from their lovemaking. It proved difficult for Dean to part from Castiel, even if only for a few hours. Unbelievably fast, he had gotten used to the warmth of Castiel's lissome body pressed against his at night while cozy heat spread between them. He wasn't exactly looking forward to sleeping alone this night, and Dean made no secrets of his thoughts as he engulfed Castiel in a tight hug, whispering softly into his ear.

Castiel encircled Dean's small of the back in return, both of his palms sliding up and down over planes of muscles and flesh soothingly. One of his hands wandered up to Dean's hair, his fingers running through the short, smooth strands gently, reassuringly.

"Why don't you sleep here, then? As long as you're back early in the morning?" Castiel suggested, his voice quiet and underlined with a sensual tremor Dean had come to know. A thrill of joy grabbed him and put a happy smirk on his mouth as he pulled back from their embrace, eying Castiel up appraisingly. He held the younger man by the hips, his thumbs mindlessly rubbing small circles into his soft sides.

"Are you serious?" he asked stupidly, still not accustomed to having this great gift of a man all to himself. Castiel's broad, teasing smile crawled up to his blue eyes and he narrowed them when he gave a short, astonished laugh.

"Yeah, of course, I'm serious. What do you think, Dean? I want to spend every coming night with you, so we might as well start from now on."

And that was it. Dean gathered a few of his belongings that evening and returned to Castiel's cleared out flat. At first, it had felt weird to wander through the emptying rooms, knowing he would spend the coming nights in them, but then Castiel had hugged Dean from behind and pressed against him reassuringly, and that was when Dean had felt home again. Home wasn't a place or a building; home was in Castiel's arms. Castiel set the alarm clock for six o'clock when they went to bed that night, even though he didn't have to get up for work anymore. He told Dean he still had to take care of a few things and that Sam would help him the next days. Also, Dean had to be back in the rehab-center in time for his training.

It was somewhat unsettling for Dean to fall asleep next to someone he loved, to share a bed with that person and feel them moving and breathing one hand breath away. He and Castiel had gone to sleep beside each other several times by now, so Dean had some time to get used to it. But still... to let it dawn on him that he would have this every day now... it suffused Dean with unspeakable happiness, and fondness grew in his heart. He and Castiel lay face to face in the bluish darkness, regarding one another silently as their eyes got used to the laughableness of dim light. It was then that Dean reached out his hand to gently intertwine it with Castiel's under the duvet. He felt his lover's thumb brushing over the back of his hand affectionately, leaning forward to kiss him fleetingly. Dean passed out with a smile, the taste of Castiel still lingering on his lips and their fingers entangled...

When he woke up early the next morning, even before the alarm clock beeped, he found his and Castiel's bodies huddled up to one another, belly to belly. In the middle of the night, Dean must have slung his arm around Castiel's hip and pulled him closer, struck by the unconscious fear the other man might be taken away from him. He was deeply contented with watching his partner sleep undisturbed while he held his warm body and listened to his quiet breaths. Castiel looked angelic and ethereal in his sleep, his face was somehow softer. The worry that usually strained Castiel's forehead, as well as the pains the man had to suffer in his life, were non-existent when he was unconscious. He looked free of burdens, untouched by violations, and Dean's love for him in these moments made him gasp for breath. To destroy a part of this innocence with the experiences that were waiting for Castiel brought the bad conscience back to Dean.

He let his thumb stroke the area above Castiel's hipbone absentmindedly – the other's shirt had rucked up during the night, and Dean loved the sensation of his smooth, warm skin under his fingers. A sting of conscience cut through Dean's mind and heart, and his face contorted with emotional pain. At some point in the coming future, Castiel would be harmed; it was inevitable. Dean still felt sorry for dragging him into this, but now it was too late for them to turn around. He and Castiel were so involved with each other, it was impossible to tear them apart again. Just the remembrance of Castiel being so hurt when Dean had left him a week ago... How dead his eyes had seemed, how pale his face, how broken his body... Now life and joy had returned to Castiel, and Dean swore to himself, he never wanted to see Castiel in that crushed state again. Hell, he would make sure to watch out for him. He would be a shielding palm saving the fire of a small candle in a vast world full of darkness.

Once Dean left Castiel's apartment in the early mornings, when the lawns were still frost-covered and the sun was barely up, he mostly didn't see him again until the late afternoons. Castiel and Sam were so occupied with selling most of Castiel's stuff, it was hard to get a hold of them. Dean wasn't bothered about it; he was immensely glad Castiel and his brother seemed to get along the more time they spent with each other. Sometimes Sam would visit him in the rehab with Castiel in tow, and he would tell Dean what they had done this day, excitement gleaming in his eyes. Dean would listen patiently then, and hold hands with Castiel as the other man sat on his bed while they exchanged fond, secret looks whenever Sam didn't pay attention.

On Tuesday, the three of them were already so comfortable around one another, that neither Sam nor Dean minded Castiel's presence when they called Bobby from the rehab. It felt like a lifetime since they had talked with the elder, widowed hunter, and for the first ten minutes, Sam and Dean had to answer lots of his questions about how they had been doing. Dean smiled to himself when he and Castiel both silently listened to Sam chatting with Bobby. It felt good to hear his familiar voice again. Some anxious corner of Dean's heart was soothed. Bobby had always been some kind of a father figure to the Winchester boys, and both sides could tell they truly cared about one another. It was easily distinguishable in the sound of their voices. Bobby sounded worried when Dean explained how he had received that damn tendon rupture a few weeks ago, and he had to explain to him in detail how he had to work against the injury and how he had gotten better. Somehow, senior citizens always seemed fascinated with diseases and injuries.

Soon, Dean cut to the chase and revealed the real reason why they had called in the first place. His and Sam's eyes met, and they shared nervous, doubtful looks when Dean directed their conversation more and more to the hunters' business. He harrumphed and licked his lips somewhat tensed.

"Listen, Bobby. You... you may not know, perchance, a few hunters you could assign a particular task to?" he asked gingerly, testing the water. He heard Bobby's breathing halt for a dreadful second, then his lengthy, agonized sigh resounded.

"Yes, Dean. I do. Why? What have you boys blundered into this time?" the older man returned, a slight hint of paternal affection as well as scolding resonating in his words, which made Dean's lips curl into a twitchy smile. He let his eyes wander from Castiel to Sam; both were staring at him, strung up and eager as to what Bobby would tell them.

"Uhm, we... remember that devil's gate we talked about before? Uh, it seems to have a leak, like we feared. Last time we were there, there was already a little army of demons gathering there. We just barely managed to make a devil's trap around it and caught a few black-eyed bitches like this. But we're not sure how long it will last, and it's kind of not the right solution for this problem. Not for good. Know what I mean? We also didn't want to exorcise the demons, thought it is better to have an eye on them," he blathered, fiddling about with Castiel's graceful, slender fingers that rested against his thoughtlessly.

"Sure. I'll send some guys I know, someone to rely on. They won't talk, for their own good. It's not like we want the whole demonic world to pay them a visit while they guard the gate, right?"

A subconscious strain left Dean's shoulders, as if a terrible weight had suddenly been lifted from him once he heard Bobby say that. He hadn't been aware how much it had bothered him to know there were still a dozen of demons out there in the countryside. The distant thought had been gnawing on his brain – what would happen if someone found them? If someone walked in on them and was persuaded to destroy the fine line between safety and decay? Now he was sure the folks Bobby knew were trustworthy and experienced enough. Before he could thank Bobby, the beardy man continued talking.

"Listen, Dean. It's good you're calling. I've been wanting to talk to you two anyway! Someone dropped off an interesting, ancient map in the Roadhouse a few nights ago, and Ellen gave it to me. You said you recognized the name of Samuel Colt on that devil's gate. Well, guess what? The map was made by the same man, it's very old and cavernous. Something about churches and railroad tracks, even that gate of yours is drawn on the map. I have a feeling that there's a connection. Might want to come around and have a look at it with me? You know you're always welcome at my house."

Dean bit on his bottom lip hesitantly – on the one hand, he wanted to give his thumbs up instantly to Bobby's suggestion. He always liked visiting him, sharing a bottle of whiskey and talking about anything and everything. He liked to help him out with the old, defective cars in the junkyard, and Sam usually roamed through Bobby's library and devoured each academic or mystic book he could get his hands on. So, yeah. Visits at Bobby's were always great and reminded of good times... But then, Dean's eyes set their sight on Castiel, regarding the man he loved mutely, just thinking for a nanosecond. He wanted him to come with them, and he wanted him to meet Bobby. And yet... It felt like bringing your prom date to your parents. He took a deep breath, deciding to man up, as he broadened his chest when he straightened himself. Dean felt both Castiel's and Sam's eyes on him, burning through him with their curious stares.

"That's great. Yeah. We would love to. There's just one more thing, Bobby. We... we wouldn't come alone, so to say. I... uh, I met someone," Dean fessed up, rubbing his neck, all jittery and feeling somewhat awkward. He had never had such a dialog before. There had never been the need for something like this. His flings had always been too brief to mention them, or Dean knew they couldn't compete with what John deemed as important. So he had kept his mouth shut and left countless lovers behind. But not this time.

Castiel was someone he couldn't let go, and their relationship wasn't something Dean intended to throw away – ever.

"Oh? Seems like someone was dumb enough to let you charm their pants off. You've got to show me that girl," Bobby chuckled amusedly. He was unknowing he placed a fierce, hot blush on Dean's cheeks. Dean heard Sam chuckle and felt like he was steaming. His insides tumbled over, his heart leapt into his throat. Castiel leaned in and kissed his cheek gently, Dean could feel the small smile on his lover's lips as they rested against his warm skin. It reassured Dean to the bone, and he let out a long exhale, scratching his head as confidence returned to him.

"About that. Bobby, it's... it's not a girl. It's a he. His name is Castiel. I met him at the rehab-center, he was my physiotherapist. And he's joining me and Sam from now on. He knows all about us..."

Dean shut his lids when Castiel wrapped a supportive arm around his back and leaned his forehead against Dean's shoulder, holding him and helping him wordlessly through this hairy conversation. But there was no need to be worried, Dean should have known. He heard Bobby laugh, but it wasn't a judging laugh or that he was laughing at Dean for any stupid reason – and Dean grinned broadly when he heard him talk again, for he was so relieved they had Bobby's blessings as well.

"So, you're trying to tell me: You not only found someone who fell in love with you, knowing you're a hunter? But he also wants to join you? Dang, you're both idjits. Bring him over here so I can smack some sense into him!"

Dean joined in Bobby's mirthful, amused laughter, chuckling softly to himself while Sam and Castiel frowned at him, slightly confused and not understanding what was so funny. Dean had to admit to himself though, that the circumstances were pretty weird and therefore an opportunity to laugh: had someone told him a few months ago his love life would change to this extent, he would have been incredulous as well. When Bobby calmed down a little, the widower let out a high-pitched sigh. He still sounded cheerful.

"I'm happy for you, boy. This is a good thing, and a rare thing on top of that. Don't let it slip away," he said, a soft undertone sang in his usually so gruff voice. Dean nodded and smirked; he regarded Castiel observing him with a serene, tender smile, his blue eyes gleamed as if they knew exactly what Bobby and Dean were discussing.

"I won't," Dean answered, making an unspoken promise to himself, as he answered Castiel's sweet smile with one of his own. He raised his lover's hand and kissed each knuckle with caution, his eyes deliberately locked with Castiel's. He admired his beauty as the man next to him blushed, breath hitching while Dean handed Sam the phone, having enough presence of mind left to do so. Sam kept talking to Bobby, turning his back on the couple, as Dean cradled Castiel's face in both hands, drawing him near to shower him with countless, affectionate kisses. He felt the other's form almost tremble in his kisses, how hot and yearningly he responded to each press and slide of Dean's lips, as lust consumed them gradually. With each second it became harder to restrain, and so Dean pulled back, marveling at Castiel's wrecked features, his drooping, lust-blown eyes that scanned over his face restlessly.

"Tonight," Dean whispered, full of promise, making sure Sam couldn't hear them, whereupon Castiel wickedly smirked. Dean tugged at Castiel's skull and pressed a long-lasting, idle kiss against the warm forehead, breathing the becalming scent of the dark-haired man in. Weightlessness bloomed in Dean's heart. He ran all his fingers through Castiel's smooth hair repeatedly, playing with some strands absentmindedly, while they sat in silence and listened to Sam on the phone. He felt Castiel lean against him trustfully, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. He practically melted against him. No, he wouldn't let this go. Dean smiled wistfully.

…

While Dean concentrated on the subtleties of healing up as best as he could, training with Janet twice a day, and somehow challenging his leg harder than ever, Castiel and Sam had a lot to do. Sam had met up with the bunch of hunters Bobby had sent – surprisingly, they had arrived with a handful of trailers in tow, intend on staying right next to the devil's gate as long as they could. They were grumpy and good-hearted men and women, just like Bobby himself, and Sam trusted them when he gave them the coordinates and shook hands with them, wishing them luck.

On top of that, Sam had taken over teaching Castiel the 101 of being a hunter – from self-defense to supernatural lore, to shooting firearms and throwing knives. When Castiel had told Dean what he had learned so far, Dean had sulked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, admitting with a rather annoyed remark that he could have taught all of this to Castiel himself. But Sam had laughed long and heartily and slapped Dean's shoulder amicably.

"Come on, Dean. You know exactly how this would end. You showing him how to shoot, like in a crappy, romantic movie? Maybe even hugging him from behind while you both aim with one gun? Yeah, thanks but no thanks. You want him to live, right? So, I'm showing him the basics."

Dean grinned sheepishly and scratched his head, on the brink of admitting Sam was right. Indeed, he had more often thought about ways to seduce Castiel instead of explaining him how to kill or fight off all kinds of eerie beings.

"Alright, you jerk," he muttered, receiving more laughter and Castiel's placating kiss on his forehead.

Had he known how bold Castiel would become through these lessons... he would have hit Sam's and Castiel's backs of the head right there and then. Granted, Castiel was indeed experienced when it came to close combat. His Wing Chun training had steeled his muscles and sharpened his defense mechanisms. He was lissome and fast. On Wednesday afternoon, Dean watched Sam and Castiel practice on the lush, green grass of the park Castiel and him had spent a lot of time in. He sat right on the meadow, resting his weight on his backwards-stretched arms. A proud smile flickered over his mouth as he set his eyes, blinded by the sun, on Sam and Castiel fighting over and over again, lap after lap. Sam was clever and used all the dirty tricks Castiel was too naïve to think of. He stomped on Castiel's feet, who hadn't seen it coming, he pitched him and head-butted Castiel's forehead mercilessly, until the man was laughing and raising his hand to signal he needed a break. He rubbed his forehead with a painful grin, wiping the beads of sweat from his temples.

"You're unfair, Sam. In a just fight, I would win," he complained, but Sam just shrugged his shoulders and grinned cheekily.

"Tell that the next werewolf or the next witch that attacks you. I'm sure they'll feel disgraceful for not fighting with honor," the younger Winchester retorted playfully, what placed a pout on Castiel's lips as he frowned sulkily.

"I'll make it up to you, Cas!" Dean called, and Castiel's eyes fled to his – a bright, joyful smile crawled to the younger man's lips. It was hard to tell from the mere distance, but Dean thought he could actually see him blush faintly. There was nothing Sam could do as Castiel ran up to Dean and knelt down in front of him, smelling of clean sweat and his unique, alluring fragrance. His eyes were so full of life, he appeared to vibrate with love and happiness as his too blue irises wandered over Dean's face – he studied Dean for a second, a fascinated expression lingered in his eyes, as if Dean was too precious to behold, and it moved Dean deep inside. He smiled gingerly when Castiel leaned forward and closed the gap between them, tilting his head with slowly closing lids. He kissed Dean passionately, hungrily. His fingers wandered up into Dean's short hair and tugged at it, full of longing. He pressed Dean closer to his panting chest, and Dean felt shaken, possessed by a strange yearning he had never felt before. Castiel's ardent, dominant demeanor created the wish inside of Dean to give himself to the other man utterly, completely.

He was a bit bewildered the moment Castiel withdrew and patted one cheek of his tauntingly. He winked at him and got up to return to Sam, leaving Dean nothing but dumbstruck. A queasy sensation expanded in Dean's lower stomach, it was similar to the awful moment of shock once you realized you were falling – the inevitable so close, right there in front of you, that all you could do was wait for the collision with the ground. Thoughtlessly, he let his fingertips touch his kiss-bruised lips, feeling the strength of Castiel's still tickling his sensitive skin.

He quietly returned to watch Sam and Castiel fight, but now he was deeply occupied with studies of Castiel's physique, how the muscles constricted under his shirt. How firm and well-defined his arms were, how prominent his collarbones... Lust pulsated hot and unforgettably in Dean's abdomen, his mouth fell open as erotic fantasies swept through his mind. He blushed fiercely and averted his eyes, fighting an inner war with himself. He had never given in to these thoughts... but with Castiel... everything was different. How would it be to surrender to him, offering himself up to him? To spread his legs for Castiel and allow him to glide smoothly into his slick, pulsating heat and make love to him? Would he be a gentle lover, or rough and slamming fast into him?

Dean suppressed this train of thought swiftly, harrumphing and acting as if nothing had permeated his mind. Even if he craved for it, he didn't think he could actually act on these wishes. Just the idea of telling it to Castiel, of asking him to take him! What if he didn't like the prospect? What if he preferred Dean penetrating him and the other man suggesting to return the favor was just too uncomfortable for him? Castiel caught some of his brooding looks and sent him one fond smile after the other to cheer Dean up, even though he didn't know what had come over his lover.

Dean had been granted the ability to dwell in sweet oblivion this whole day through, until he and Castiel begun wrestling in bed for fun, rolling in the sheets and fighting for control with carefree laughter. At one time, Castiel managed to pin Dean down underneath him, and he gave him a triumphant smirk, his eyes gleamed with grim pleasure. His arms were shaking under the pressure Dean applied on them. Dean knew his arms were vastly stronger and more experienced when it came to fights. But for a second, Dean allowed himself to be held down and to drown in Castiel's eyes above his. Unknowingly, he had spread his legs, so that Castiel could kneel in between them. He gulped thickly, overwhelmed when the queasy feeling returned to his lower stomach. His heart fell into a rapid, hard pace, thumping insanely quick against his ribcage. Something changed in Castiel's eyes, they slowly dilated the longer he looked down at Dean and held him by the wrists, not yielding an inch.

Their hot breaths met and fanned against one another repeatedly. Dean was dizzy with want as Castiel lowered his head, his eyes never leaving Dean's, and how he brushed his lips sensually over Dean's, never near enough to kiss him, but near enough to tickle and tease skillfully. Dean writhed underneath Castiel, twisting his chest from one side to the other to escape Castiel. He jiggled with his arms, in a half-hearted attempt to get free from Castiel's vicious grip, but Castiel just held him tighter and pressed his arms down on the mattress. Finally, his lover gave in and kissed Dean firmly and rubbed their groins together in slow, considerate thrusts of his pelvis. Dean moaned into his mouth, already hard from Castiel's dominant behavior. He had a hard time admitting to himself how much he liked being forced to submit and take the caresses Castiel was giving him. It made him hard beyond imagination, and when Castiel moved down on his body, his fingers shoving bothering textile away and pulling down his boxer shorts... when Castiel wrapped his lips carefully around Dean's completely hard length and devoured him greedily, leaving Dean breathless and shivering with lust... for the first time, Dean felt the need to be filled, the need to be stretched. He wanted Castiel beyond anything.

However, he didn't find the courage to speak up for his hidden desires, and Castiel didn't say anything either. His wishes were as good as forgotten when Castiel rode him that night; as he sat in Dean's lap and let Dean's cock disappear in his scorching hot, narrow heat over and over again. Dean was absolutely hypnotized by Castiel's face, contorted with both pain and pleasure as he slit himself open on Dean's throbbing length, his nails scraping over Dean's torso back and forth. He had his head thrown back, his lids shut – his mouth was agape and twitching as he released lengthy, high-pitched moans whenever Dean's broad cockhead stroked over that one spot that made Castiel limp and tense at the same time. Filled with admiration, Dean let his palms skim over Castiel's convulsing abs. He loved how they rolled along to the movements of Castiel's hips, how they constricted under Dean's fingertips. Castiel's eyes flew open when Dean's hand encircled his partner's cock tentatively, stroking and pumping it in a loose fist.

Dean was struck hard in that moment; he recognized the same vehement flame enlightened Castiel's eyes as they shared mute, understanding looks. Castiel was in control of this love play, he determined the pace and the end of it. A tiny, cheeky smile loomed on Castiel's puffy, bruised lips as he threw his arms around Dean's neck and starting riding him with an insanely good, fast velocity, bringing his ass down on his cock wholly. He whined and Dean moaned surprised, his fingers dug into Castiel's moving hips. He searched for purchase as their bodies reached their climaxes slowly but surely. They stared into each other's lust-blown eyes for a few moments, and each hint of power games was gone, just like this. It didn't matter. Power wasn't what their relationship was about, neither control. Dean let go of every thought and abandoned himself to the pleasure that was forming in his abdomen with every of Castiel's perfect thrusts. When Castiel's forehead dropped to Dean's shoulder and when the man constricted around him, crying out in his delirious frenzy as he came, Dean thought he couldn't be happier. He couldn't fight it as a forceful surge of pleasure washed over him like white-hot, making his nerve endings hum with relief as he shot his seed into Castiel in quick intervals.

Nevertheless, when Dean fell asleep next to Castiel that night, his arm possessively wrapped around his partner, he was bothered by countless dreams. All of them were dealing with Castiel penetrating him, holding his hips as he thrust into him smoothly. When Dean woke up, he thought he could still see the fierce, heated glare his dream-lover had beheld him with as they had melted together, their heated up bodies moving together. It was tattooed to his retina and made him delirious with desire, he couldn't even think straight.

He snuck out of bed wobbly, leaving Castiel asleep, as he locked the bathroom door behind him. He slid one hand in his boxer shorts to grope his hard-on. Soon he masturbated to thoughts of Castiel taking him, his whole lower body hummed with pleasure as he stroked up and down his throbbing length. His thighs were shaking at the mere thought, so much that he got down on his knees and bent forward. Subconsciously, he exposed himself completely. He bit down on his bottom lip to suppress the high-pitched moans arising in his throat. His forehead met with the cold, tiled floor. He spread his thighs further apart, mewling quietly at the thought of someone behind him, someone cupping his ass cheeks teasingly and pulling them apart. He spread his come all over the bathroom floor and panted raggedly. He was overwhelmed with rapture, his lids drooping with exhaustion. It was then that he knew he had a problem. He needed to take action against these thoughts, or they would never leave. He had to do something.

...

The need to feel Castiel as intimately as possible became worst on Thursday, the day before they intended to leave the clinic behind for good. Castiel had dropped in this early morning to kiss Dean ardently and hold him closely pressed against his chest, his arms slung around the older man's back. When Dean had withdrawn, his legs jelly-like and his breathing shallow and erratic, he had seen that specific look on Castiel's face again. How prominently his jawline protruded, underlining his masculine throat. There was heat in Castiel's glance, and it produced constricting excitement in the depths of Dean's tummy.

He loved Castiel's dominant behavior when his lover covered Dean's growing, clothed bulge with one palm nonchalantly, squeezing it with gentle pressure. Dean's mouth opened up to a surprised, aroused "oh," and he unwillingly buckled his hips so that Castiel could touch him better. But then, Castiel had bent forward, his plump, sinful lips brushed over Dean's teasingly. They had stared deeply into each other's dilating eyes, and goose bumps had spread on Dean's skin. Castiel's mouth was so near to his, tickling with its proximity, and longing spread in Dean's chest. Castiel kissed his lips fleetingly, a sly smile appeared on his warm mouth when he took in Dean's desperate, heated up sight. He groped Dean's cock tighter and stroked him through the fly of his pants, making Dean growl and his lids fall shut.

"See you tonight," Castiel had whispered against his agape mouth, the tip of his tongue ghosting over Dean's bottom lip. Dean didn't know whether Castiel knew what he was doing to him, if he knew how Dean was thinking about this damn possessive, challenging look he had given him – all day long the memory of these ablaze, passionate eyes lingered in Dean's mind, the prickling in his lower abdomen didn't stop. Sometimes, he felt his cock twitch excitedly in his jeans, especially when Dean arrived at the decision he would execute the plan that had formed in his head within the last days.

He borrowed the Impala from Sam with a flimsy excuse, then he spent the late afternoon with preparations for the chosen place for this night, gathering some things he deemed necessary. When he considered his work in the abandoned, rundown church and rubbed the dirt of his hands, he huffed a short laugh to himself. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. He was suffused with an urge he didn't understand, and he was a little scared. But he wanted this - beyond reason, beyond imagination - he simply couldn't deny himself this daring step. How would it be like? How would it feel to overstep the mark? The yearning blossoming within him like a fair flower was growing with each day, and it clouded Dean's thinking. He couldn't suppress these fantasies anymore... Just the thought of it made him impossibly hard, and he had to press the palm of his hand hard against his cock to deflate it again. Tonight. It would happen tonight.

**TBC**

I guess it's only fair to post another update this week, right? But chapter 30 (the last!) will definitely published next week. **Tell me what you think you cuties! =)**


	29. Chapter 29

See below for author's notes, darlings! Thanks for your lovely reviews on the last chapter, you made me squeak with happiness =)

**Chapter 29**

He picked Castiel up during the transition of day and night – purple gray dusk hovered through the utterly empty rooms of Castiel's cleared out flat, veiling it as if this place had already become a distant memory. Only the bed and a few chairs and the dinner table were left, the rest of his belongings were either sold or stored away. It was strangely quiet in the apartment. His dark-haired lover stood opposite Dean in his blank living room. The multi-colored sundown shone vibrantly behind him through the window; a duffel bag and a small backpack leaned against a wall – everything that Castiel would take with him. Tomorrow. Castiel smiled and hinted at the empty flat with extended arms, a wistful, but also content smile looming on his lips as he regarded Dean. Mischief twinkled in his eyes and he let his arms drop to either sides.

"That's it. All I've got left," he explained, approaching Dean with slow, thoughtful steps. Dean was suddenly aware that this was their make-or-break situation. Castiel could still choose to stay here and abandon their plans. He could still turn away from Dean, the hunter knew that. Gently, he placed his hands on Castiel's hips and drew him in, tilting his head to look steadily into his lover's eyes. Somehow, the serene, infatuated smile of Castiel was indestructible, unimpressed by Dean's slight frown. Dean let out a sigh. His chest felt narrowed as his heart thumped wildly inside him.

"Are you sure this is what you want? You can still turn around...," he said quietly, an offer and one more chance for Castiel to think this through. He wasn't prepared for the gut-wrenching reaction he received once these words were out in the open: Castiel shut his lids and brought their foreheads together, pressing his body as close as possible to Dean's. Their legs and bellies were intimately squeezed together. Dean could feel every stammering, short-lived breath of Castiel that fanned hotly against his bottom lip and aroused him beyond all measure. He felt edgy with yearning, one second away from lunging for Castiel's mouth and kiss him ardently.

"I've made my decision. None of these things matter, compared to you," Castiel said, rendering Dean speechless. He opened his eyes and stared into Castiel's, whose determination and loyalty impressed him.

For a moment, they were absorbed in each other, their whole universe only dealt with the man in front of them. A twitchy smile appeared on Dean's mouth, and he pulled Castiel into a tight hug. He embraced him and held him for a while. Castiel was becoming lax in his arms and allowed Dean to support his weight. A hunch of devotion came over Dean, he felt the need to give Castiel something in return. The man he loved had given up so much for him, putting his health and his life at risk only to be with him...

It fitted perfectly to the plan Dean had prepared for this evening. He couldn't think of a greater gift he could offer Castiel. It wasn't only due to the fact that he felt he owed Castiel something, it was also one of Dean's deepest desires which consumed him day and night until his befogged being couldn't take it anymore. He entangled his fingers with Castiel's and withdrew slightly, smiling secretively at him.

"Come. I want to show you something," he said cryptically.

…

The ride to the place Dean had decided for didn't take longer than ten minutes. Castiel was asking him all sorts of silly questions where they were going to, thus making Dean grin or telling him to shut up playfully. To be honest, his nerves were currently going haywire – the nearer they came to the prepared location, the more Dean tensed up with anticipation. An endless pit of queasiness formed in his stomach. He didn't know how Castiel would respond to his idea, but he needed to find out so desperately. No turning back now. It wasn't like Dean to make a retreat once he had set his mind on something.

They stepped out of the car, which Dean had parked in a deserted parking bay that was already covered with brushwood. No other cars passed by this road. Castiel made wide eyes at Dean; he took the hand Dean was offering him, as the hunter lead his lover through the undergrowth and into the quiet forest. The night was slowly crawling over the horizon and overthrowing daylight. A knowing expression appeared in Castiel's eyes and he squeezed Dean's hand firmly, intertwining their fingers as they kept on walking.

"I've been here as a kid. A long time ago," he said, whereas Dean nodded thoughtfully. Maybe Castiel remembered the abandoned church he was heading for.

Within seconds, every sensible thought was forgotten as they let the picturesque surroundings affect them. The more they pressed forward in the failing light, caught between night and day, the more the trees and shrubberies seemed to welcome and absorb them. It all felt like a dream they were stumbling into. Unlike other forsaken places, this one seemed friendly and peacefully beautiful. Fireflies flew all around them. They placed a gentle, warm glow in Castiel's lavender-blue eyes. Dean smiled at him, nothing but enamored by his loveliness. A few southern live oaks, old and huge, bordered a long forgotten path. Spanish moss hung over their thick branches like old women's white hair; it fluttered gently in the mild evening wind. The air was spicy and clean, and Dean drank it in greedily, letting it fill his lungs with clarity.

"There was an old, wooden church somewhere close by here. When the city center shifted some fifty years ago, the church was abandoned. Now it must be overgrown with ivy and other plants," Castiel mused, his eyes searching for Dean's as he still tried to figure out what they were doing here. Dean smiled conspiratorially to himself and kept on strutting through the forest along the line of oaks.

"That's where we're going to," he confessed. Castiel laughed lightly and ran a hand through his smooth, raven black hair. He pulled Dean to a stop gently, frowning slightly at him.

"What's going on, Dean? What's with all this secretiveness? You're not going to slaughter me, right?"

Dean quickly leaned forward and pressed a long-lasting kiss on Castiel's furrowed brow, breathing his lovely scent in deeply. He was so nervous... his heart slammed against his ribcage like a trapped, wild animal trying to get out.

"Nothing's wrong. Just trust me, okay?"

He felt Castiel nod subtly, and they broke free from each other to continue their short walk.

...

When they arrived directly in front of the church, stepping on an unkempt clearing, the first silvery stars were already covering the pale blue sky and sparkling above their heads. With astonished eyes and an agape mouth, Castiel regarded the run down building. The white paint was coming off in flakes, there was a hole in the thatched roof. The wings of the door, made of dark wood, were partly crooked and brittle. Still, it was easily discernible how fair the church must have been in its day. Dean was beyond pleased once he recognized the appreciative, tiny smile gracing Castiel's lips while he studied the church ahead of them. Fireflies still busily flew all around them as if the stars had descended to earth.

"It's more beautiful than I remembered. I used to play here in my childhood."

"Cas, could you wait for a sec? I've got to make a few arrangements. Won't take long. Promised."

With that being said, Dean opened one door wing and slipped into the darkness, walking along the aisle of the church. Inside, it wasn't as black as pitch yet, but they needed some light. It smelt of dust and unmoved air, a hint of incense still discernible. He produced his favorite lighter and strode up to the altar where he had left a ridiculous amount of various candles this afternoon. He quickly lit them, in this way plunging the small nave into golden, warm candlelight. It made the marmoreal floor glow ethereally and showed the church at its best. Dean readjusted the blanket he had placed right in front of the altar, then he struggled to his feet and considered his work. He breathed in deeply and several times, trying to soothe his nerves. He deemed the place appropriate for his purposes, to offer Castiel something that was precious to Dean. It was considered something holy in religions he didn't believe in, but it was important to him as well. He didn't own a lot of valuable things, but he could give Castiel a part of him, something special.

"Cas? Are you coming?" he called, and then Castiel walked through the door with moderate steps, looking around shyly.

His eyes scanned the setting, he took in the scenery with a dropped jaw. As if in trance, he made towards Dean, uncertainty lingering in his features as their eyes met. He climbed the few marble steps leading to Dean, who reached out a hand and smiled reassuringly at his lover as Castiel took it. The rich candlelight refracted in Castiel's eyes; it made them look like two precious gems that shone through the deepest night. His skin appeared divine, like fine ivory, precisely carved to perfection. Dean wanted to succumb to these plump, pink lips and elicit passionate kisses from them, but he had to sustain a clear mind for a few more, torturous seconds. Tenderly, he wrapped his arms around Castiel's shoulders and took the last step that separated their bodies. Castiel's eyes were burning through his, an intense flame of attentiveness and adoration. A brittle smile darted over his lips as he gradually became fascinated with Dean staring at him.

Dean brought their lips together, his lids sank with dizziness as he slowly started kissing Castiel. He sensed him responding with equal fervor once the initial surprise was overcome. Dean felt how his deft palms ran up and down his back, his fingertips nimbly traced his spine through the thin texture of his shirt. He parted Castiel's lips with his own, daring to lick inside his mouth and slide his tongue alongside Castiel's. Instantly, his lover jerked with pleasure in his arms and became stiff as he participated in their heating up French kisses. Soon, Dean's legs were turning to jelly, he felt like swooning. With caution, he pulled back and studied Castiel's dilating pupils and the faint red hue covering his cheeks. His breaths were shallow and erratic, his lids were heavy with lust.

"I want to show you my gratitude, Cas. For giving up everything for me, for coming with us," Dean started, forcing himself to sound as calm and collected as possible though he couldn't expel the odd tremor ringing in his voice. Wonder surfaced in Castiel's irises, he wrinkled his brow a small bit.

"Dean, whatever you're suggesting, you don't have to do anything. I'm doing this of my own free will," Castiel argued, seemingly somewhat troubled with Dean's words.

"As do I," Dean quickly affirmed, gazing unyieldingly into Castiel's dark blue eyes, until his lover smiled again.

Blindly, he grasped both of Castiel's hands and held them in his. Affectionately, he rubbed with his thumbs over the soft skin. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the magnificent sight in front of him. The last remnants of doubts quickly vanished. He wanted this. Nervously, he licked over his bottom lip, attempting to find the right words for his wish.

"I... want to give you something, too, Cas. Something no one ever took from me."

The frown on Castiel's pale forehead deepened, and Dean felt terribly jittery. He kissed Castiel fleetingly, savoring the scent of him on his lips. Then he summoned up all his courage and looked right into his partner's eyes. He smiled hesitantly at him when he was struck by how the candlelight graced his features.

"I want you to be my first man, Cas. I want you to take me," he confessed, his voice nothing more than a barely heard rasping sound.

The dumbstruck countenance he received for saying this would have made Dean laugh at any other occasion. Now it unsettled him, and he wasn't sure it was exactly what Castiel wanted as well. Castiel blinked a few times, standing idly there and seeming nothing but petrified. It wasn't the reaction Dean had hoped for, but then again, he hadn't had any idea how he had wanted Castiel to react in the first place. Since Dean was a man who faced his fears and who didn't get easily discouraged, he decided to allure Castiel – he'd be damned if he couldn't seduce him, at least a tiny bit until he found his tongue again.

Carefully, as if he was approaching a scared beast, he ran the fingers of his right hand through Castiel's dark strands and stroked through his hair with placid consideration. He became aware of Castiel closing his lids with a sigh, how his chest tensed up, how every muscle of his well-toned torso protruded temptingly. Dean bowed his head and licked along Castiel's neck, feeling the stream of blood that pulsed quickly through his aorta. He tasted the clean scent of his lover's skin, an effective aphrodisiac on his tongue. Simultaneously, Dean put his palms on Castiel's pecs and stroked down the firm flesh, down towards the hem of his shirt until he could slip his hands under it and feel smooth, hot skin. Once more, Castiel sighed. His exhales were coming in a treacherous staccato, disclosing how much Dean was affecting him. Lewdly, Dean pressed his lower body against Castiel's to bring their crotches together. He bit into his lover's lobe, gnawed at it and twisted it between his teeth. It elicited a sweet, high-pitched moan from Castiel, and he finally seemed to awake from his rigidity.

It was the moment when Dean greedily stroked along Castiel's abs and the smooth skin of his ribs, that Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's hips tempestuously and held Dean hard against him. Dean reclined his head and sought for Castiel's eyes – he was enraptured to find the hot-blooded glare he had seen in so many of his dreams. Castiel's jawline seemed more prominent than usual; his lust-clouded, glassy eyes devoured Dean, so that heat was boiling vehemently in his abdomen. Pleasure ran down his spine and tickled him. Goosebumps appeared on his forearms as he shivered delighted in Castiel's arms. He was ready to abandon himself to the ecstasy of being with him. God, he was so ready to welcome him, to let him in..

Castiel lowered himself abruptly to his knees and brought Dean down with him, so that Dean had no other choice than to spread his legs and come to rest on his lover's lap, half sitting, half kneeling. Castiel looked up to him with a suave smile, his hands lustfully stroked along Dean's clothed pecs and his belly. Dean looked down and met the fiery stare. Pins and needles rioted inside of him, he was too perplexed to say something. His jaw dropped, he was so fascinated by Castiel's pensive albeit lascivious mien as these lavender-blue eyes scanned his face. How he tilted his head to the side and studied Dean while his hands roamed all over Dean's torso. Slender fingers sneaked under his shirt and stroked him in all the right places until Dean was quietly sighing and shuddering. Unconsciously, he moved towards these warm palms...

"You were never taken?" Castiel rasped, his voice dark and broken. Heat traveled through Dean's abdomen once he heard Castiel speak so impassioned, once their eyes locked. His heart was in his throat when he saw Castiel's glassy, dilated pupils shining in the candlelight. Dean shook his head in denial. He gulped thickly when one of Castiel's hands cupped his growing erection through his jeans, massaging it temptingly. Dean canted his head and brought their lips together. He kissed Castiel with an urgency that spoke volumes. His willingness seemed to spur Castiel on, for his hands quickly found their way to Dean's waistband and fumbled with the belt, buttons and his zipper. Dean moaned into the kiss, loving how rough Castiel was, how he tugged at his opened jeans to let Dean's lap crush against his, causing wonderful friction. Greedy hands moved over Dean's shirt, raising it impatiently; fingernails scraped over Dean's ribcage and he melted against Castiel's mouth. He became limp on his lap as he whined into their kisses, his forehead fell against Castiel's. What a wonderful rapture had taken over him...

He disentangled from Castiel and stood up, taking off his clothes with slow, provocative movements. All the while he felt Castiel's burning eyes on him, devouring his every revealed body part, appreciating the given sight. Dean was nothing but intoxicated by those blue gemstones marveling at him and he smiled subtly. The tension faded away. It felt right to do this, he wasn't afraid. Once he was completely naked, he walked on tiptoes to Castiel, feeling the cold, polished marble underneath his foot sole. Castiel sat on the prepared blanket and smiled affectionately at Dean as he patted the empty space next to him invitingly. Dean lay down on his back, feeling a little awkward and painfully presented because he was utterly naked compared to Castiel. He watched his partner get up and strip slowly for Dean as well, his eyes never leaving Dean's as item after item was dropped to the floor. Castiel seemed like a young god to Dean, a well-shaped statue, too lovely to be human.

When Dean's gaze roamed all over Castiel's lean, muscled body, dressed in nothing but silky candlelight, he felt his heart strike a tremendous pace. He studied Castiel's erect cock, how the broad head of it was wet with drops of precome, how thick it was, and nervousness returned to Dean. Suddenly, he felt very exposed and vulnerable, and he was certain it was going to hurt. Castiel must have noticed Dean's discomfort, for he knelt down between his slightly spread thighs and hovered over him – his hands rested next to Dean's head to support his weight. A steady expression sparkled in his blue eyes as he considered Dean appraisingly. The hunter could sense the heat Castiel's body radiated even though they weren't touching at all, and somehow he thought this heat could comfort him and shield him from the coldness he was usually subjected to.

"We don't have to do this, Dean," Castiel mumbled, his lips barely grazing Dean's, their eyes glued to one another. Dean breathed in sharply, overcome with another surge of pleasure washing over him. He felt his cock twitch in gleeful anticipation, subconsciously he spread his legs further for Castiel. The decision was made when he placed his arms around Castiel's waist and pulled him down, forcing him to let their bodies collide at last. He moaned in delight when their heated, hard cocks were squished together, when he felt the fast pace of Castiel's blood throb against his erection. The dark-haired man's moist, warm breaths breezed against Dean's sensitive throat. His lids closed by themselves when Castiel kissed his neck gently. Hands traced down Dean's lean sides. He felt hot exhales in his ear, how Castiel's plump lips brushed over his auricle. As if by magic, Dean relaxed, handing over control to Castiel without a second thought as his partner whispered into his ear. Goosebumps spread on Dean's skin.

"I'll take care of you. I'll make you feel so good...," Castiel promised – Dean tensed up, but this time with arousal, he couldn't help but sigh excitedly. He raised his pelvis and thrust up against Castiel's erection, making it slide along Dean's own so that their precome mingled and besmeared their stomachs stickily. Castiel sat up and knelt between Dean's thighs, smiling down at his lover a little cheekily. He reached out one hand and let his fingers run through Dean's short hair in a soothing, affectionate gesture. Mesmerized, Dean allowed him to stroke along his stubbly cheek and chin, his forefinger's tip followed the curves of Dean's opened lips. Fondness resonated in Castiel's touches. A nameless joy danced in his eyes while his other hand caressed Dean's chest, gliding lower and lower until he encircled Dean's hard-on in a loose fist, pumping his cock tentatively.

Dean was starting to writhe underneath Castiel's knowing hands – he noticed how aroused he already was as he read his own body's signals: His erect nipples, his taut stomach rolling rhythmically along to the thrusts of Castiel's fist, his convulsing abs... the thrill of the unknown made his legs jerk and twitch restlessly, he was opening them up to Castiel trustfully. His breaths came in random intervals, sounding chopped; they were accompanied by a few quavering moans. Castiel devoted himself to shower Dean's body with airy, teasing kisses that tickled and stimulated just right.

A clever tongue licked over Dean's abdomen, traced the hint of his six-pack and dived into his bellybutton playfully, while Castiel wanked Dean harder and massaged his length in lissome up and down movements. Dean's hands grasped Castiel's raven black hair and sought for purchase as his partner's tongue wandered down, snaking over his pounding length with gentle cautiousness. Dean felt so fragile in this moment, so overwhelmed with lust, he couldn't do anything about it but just lie here and take whatever Castiel offered him. He wanted to touch him too, however only his hands could reach Castiel's skull as Castiel's hands slid along the inner sides of Dean's thighs, pressed them apart with a subtle push. He twisted the black strands between his fingers mindlessly, gasping when Castiel's broad tongue licked along his balls – suddenly, his ass was lifted as Castiel grabbed the firm cheeks with both hands, and the tip of Castiel's tongue breached the circle of Dean's hole, dipping gingerly inside.

He would have never thought he'd find so much pleasure in being treated this way, but the loud, whimpered moan escaping him gave him away. His forearm fell on his sweaty forehead. Through half-closed eyes he gave in to Castiel's tongue doing wonders to him. He felt it massage his insides, tickling and preparing him skillfully as he rotated his tongue. Dean couldn't stop his lower half from lolling and moving closer towards Castiel, urging him wordlessly to keep going. His mind was a hazy maze, his glassy green eyes stared at the ceiling and the altar in utter surprise. He was so enchanted by the hot boosts of lust coursing through his body, how they filled him with sensual longing. Semi-conscious, he studied the golden adornments fencing the tabernacle and the gold that shone in the candlelight. The mural paintings above them were half unrecognizable, but still plainly beautiful. This place seemed like a personal shrine to Dean, it became the manifestation of his own religion. He was offering himself as a sacrifice to Castiel, and both he and Dean were gods accepting the offering with benevolent mercy.

Castiel withdrew after a few minutes, his face absolutely flushed with heat and arousal – Dean feasted on his ripe lips supplied with simmering blood, the hungry expression in his eyes. How erratic his breaths were as his chest lifted and lowered restlessly, its color resembling the blossoms of cherry trees. He observed Castiel bend and fetch the bottle of lube, how he opened the lid and coated his forefinger and middle finger with a few fat drops. He rubbed the liquid between his fingers, with his other hand he touched Dean's thigh and placed the gracile ankle on his shoulder. They exchanged heated glances through half-lidded eyes, studying how they gradually wrecked the other person. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from Castiel's, he was too entranced to see him bite his lower lip as he was obviously trying to restrain himself. He felt Castiel's fingers searched for his entrance, then, how they rubbed the lotion into his heated skin with small rotations. A strange tightness appeared in Dean's chest, he could hear the roar of his blood rushing through his ears. Castiel closed his eyes and kissed him as he let his two fingers glide inside Dean smoothly, not relenting until they were completely buried within him.

For a second, every of their motions stilled, even their lips were just idly pressed together. Dean estimated the sensation of being touched so intimately – it didn't hurt like he had expected, he probably had to thank the lube for that. Nevertheless, he felt stretched and a slight burning ache. He couldn't believe just how sensitive he was, how respondent to the slightest movements of Castiel's fingers. He dared to slacken his muscles and breathe deeply several times. He caught Castiel's mouth in brief, fond kisses, wordlessly hinting he could continue preparing him. Castiel gently drew his fingers back, only to press them into Dean, slowly broadening him as he thrust into him repeatedly. Dean was getting accustomed to the unknown touch, and soon he started to like how his insides heated up through the friction, how a tingling warmth spread inside of him. Then, all at once, Castiel's fingertips found his prostate, and Dean winced, a cry of pleasure fell from his agape mouth. He gasped for breath, stunned by the erotic feeling taking over him, making his body writhe.

From then on, all gentleness and caution was passé, utter insanity got the better of them. Dean let Castiel fuck him with his fingers, delighted at how he squeezed his weak spot every now and then. He was slowly but surely becoming addicted to the fulgurant feeling of omnipresent lust that grew within him. He scratched Castiel's back and left bloody tracks. He bit his neck to work on dark hickeys while he listened to Castiel's raw moans. He wanted to kill him with pleasure and forget everything in the world except for the two of them. Dean smiled lovestruck when Castiel withdrew at long last and opened the foil of a condom with shaky fingers, looking as upset as Dean felt. He looked his fill of the younger man, how he unrolled the condom on his cock and slathered it with a generous amount of lube while his lids fell shut, he was so overcome with passion.

Castiel bent over him then, held Dean's face in both hands and pulled his head up for an ardent kiss that soon became sloppy and desperate. On any other occasion, Dean might have felt embarrassed for being so needy, but in this moment he couldn't stop moaning lewdly into Castiel's mouth. He uplifted his pelvis as an unmistakable request. Every breath they were still separated from each other became torturous. Castiel pulled back, his heavy-lidded eyes set on Dean's. He felt him lining up his cock along the crack of his ass, how his hands gently but determinately tugged his butt cheeks apart. Dean's whole body tensed unwillingly when he perceived the fat, round head of Castiel's erection pressing against his wet hole, slowly but surely penetrating him. His hands grasped Castiel's hips automatically, guided him and brought him further inside. He couldn't endure the heated gaze Castiel beheld him with, and soon, everything was becoming too much. He was so sensitive, it felt so sensual and filthy to be filled out this way... His head dropped to the ground and he stretched his throat, offered it confidently to his lover, who left open-mouthed kisses on Dean's skin.

When he was completely inside of him, Castiel stopped moving. Dean heard his ragged breaths, how a low moan escaped him. He looked up and detected the moved expression in Castiel's eyes, how he regarded Dean so affectionately it made Dean's skin crawl. It didn't hurt, the initial agony was gone. Dean felt the blood of Castiel's throbbing hard-on pumping against him, inside of him, and he couldn't resist thrusting up against his hips, wanting him to start moving. All at once, a dreadful fear ate Dean up, and he was concerned about how it felt like for Castiel, whether he had experienced better intercourse with other men. An indescribable fear, a pain that made Dean's heart slam against his ribs. He stretched out one hand and encompassed Castiel's cheek, his thumb stroked the fine hair over his temple.

"Cas...," he whispered, his voice sounded choked with emotions. He searched for Castiel's eyes, and when they met, he realized Castiel was trembling from head to toe as he tried to smile at Dean.

"Cas, I want to be good for you... I wanna make you feel good," Dean squeezed out, raising his hips once more, so that Castiel could slide deeper inside. He was rapt to see Castiel's eyes roll into the back of his head as his lids fluttered shut. A loud moan was elicited from him. Fingernails dug into Dean's hips, Castiel initiated a slow rhythm and thrust into Dean with force as he directed Dean on his cock. He opened his eyes again, staring at the man underneath him with a tender smile and lovingness written all over his wonderful, shining irises.

"You're so...ahhh...," Castiel moaned, biting on his bottom lip when Dean responded to Castiel's pace and rode his every thrust voluptuously, arching his back. "Fuck, so good, Dean!," Castiel cried out, his brow furrowed with tantalizing lust. Every notion of resistance was forgotten while Castiel glided into Dean. His head fell into the crook of Dean's neck as if he was overmastered by being united with Dean. Dean's hands stroked down Castiel's smooth back and up through his hair, squeezed him and held him as close as possible. He enjoyed the nipping of Castiel's teeth on his neck and the greedy lips which sucked on his skin, leaving purple hickeys in their wake. It didn't take long and Castiel hoisted Dean's ass and shoved into him with an alternative angle – and the air was punched out of Dean, he choked on his own breaths. A flash of pleasure shot through him, made his whole body tense up so that he was even digging his toes into the ground. Castiel's cock head stroked along his sweet spot, made Dean's legs twitch and forced him to become a boneless puddle of chaos and rapture. He was soon getting lost in the ecstasy of being pushed over the edge, of feeling so sexually satisfied.

His exhales were broken, shuddering and coming in random intervals. Subconsciously, Dean listened to his own breaths, thinking he hadn't inhaled properly in several minutes. His chest tightened with agitation as his fingernails scraped hard over Castiel's shoulder blades – he was desperately trying to find purchase on Castiel's body as the man wrecked him with each slow, hard thrust of his canted hips. It was so difficult to keep his eyes open, and even though Dean loved the sensual expression dancing on Castiel's beautiful face, for the love of God, he had no strength left to keep his lids upright. The slippery slide of Castiel's cock into him was perfect, the steady, building rhythm absolutely pleasing. Dean felt his muscles engulf Castiel's throbbing length, urging him deeper inside, how he clung to Castiel's cock greedily. He sensed his own slick heat whenever Castiel's erection pulled slightly back, how some lube dribbled out of him; it was divine to feel his lover come home to that wet heat over and over again, each time with more force and deeper, broadening Dean illegally good. Dean had never thought it would feel this way, so raw and unrestrained... He had never thought he could lose control like this, completely and without the ability to do anything against it.

When Castiel's palm gently clasped Dean's leaking cock that strained upwards against his lower stomach, Dean gasped for air. He threw his head back unwillingly when Castiel initiated hesitant up and down movements and wanked Dean with ever growing pressure. Dean couldn't help it, his body reacted solely by instinct and answered to each skilful, knowing touch of his lover. The pad of Castiel's thumb brushed the bead of precome away and spread it on Dean's length so that the older man whined and upheaved his hips, wordlessly begging Castiel to touch him more, to give him more of whatever he was doing.

Combined with the ongoing, accelerating thrusts, Dean thought he couldn't take it anymore. It was all too much... his hands skimmed restlessly over Castiel's sweaty back, squeezed him and grabbed him whenever a jerk made his whole body trash around... Castiel's sweet, soft moans cut through the air every now and then, fanning against Dean's agape mouth so impossibly near... The broad head of his cock slammed against Dean's oversensitive sweet spot, hitting it, tickling it, teasing it – it made Dean nothing but boneless, he had no say in his excited body responding to these gut-wrenching caresses. Before he knew it, he lolled mindlessly under Castiel, raised his pelvis and offered Castiel to glide as deep as possible inside. He was riding Castiel's long, hard strokes as he arched his back, loving the friction of his lover's cock massage his spot over and over again.

Without a warning, Castiel intensified the pressure of his hand surrounding Dean's length, and he pumped him hard and incessantly. Dean yelped in delight as a hot wave of lust overwhelmed him and coursed through him. The heat inside of him increased and he was tossing and turning under Castiel's feverish body; he realized his muscles were constricting more and more, keeping Castiel locked inside of him and squeezing him on their own accord. Dean heard a faint, astonished gasp escaping Castiel's mouth, and it stirred the insatiable hunger within him to see the erotic mask resting on Castiel's features. Nothing could have prepared Dean for the glance he received when he struggled to open his lust-hooded, heavy lids. Regarding his lover with half-closed eyes. It hit him hard and cut right through him to see how havocked Castiel looked: his ruffled, dark hair framed his flushed, deep red cheeks. The pearls of sweat gleamed in the candlelight as they trickled down his temples in small rivulets... his swollen, puffy lips, opened to mute, trembling screams. But what startled Dean the most was the inextinguishable fire burning in Castiel's shocked eyes as he observed Dean with each powerful thrust, how knowingly these eyes appeared whenever Dean gasped or whined impassionate.

It seemed to Dean, they were performing a holy rite, like a marriage ceremony. As their bodies came together in this forsaken church, it was like giving and receiving absolution, like drinking blessed wine and eating Eucharistic bread. Dean's befuddled head formed mute prayers when he studied Castiel's opened lips, he was inwardly praising his lover as he felt so alight to be with him. He had no words for his heartfelt gratitude.

With relish, Dean let his hands trail down Castiel's lean torso, stroking the smooth, scorching hot skin. Castiel leaned down to kiss him harshly, his tongue parted Dean's lips. Their tongues slid lewdly together and Dean tilted his head to deepen the rather sloppy kiss. It was then that Castiel changed the angle of his penetrating and rammed his cock head exactly on Dean's spot. A hot, white lightning flash of lust ripped through Dean and he dived his fingernails into Castiel's moving hips frantically, moaning when his lower half convulsed without his permission. Castiel stayed in this position and hit home with each considerate stroke, Through lust-blown, dark blue eyes he regarded Dean. The hunter felt uptight and light at the same time, his fingers scrabbled about Castiel's body helplessly as he was spiraling slowly but surely into his orgasm. He was scared, for he had never felt that way. He was scared of the intensity that might probably blow him away. It felt like he would explode, and he wasn't sure that was a good feeling.

His legs twitched furiously and his chest turned from one side to the other, trying to get away from Castiel giving it to him so perfectly; but he also wanted more, more of this epic torment. Violent rolls of his hips took over Dean, his whole body was surging – he and Castiel were like ebb and flow coming together, merging in boiling hot desire. When he beheld Castiel in that moment, time seemed to have stopped just for the two of them so that they could enjoy this sensual experience forever. With one hard thrust of Castiel's hips, Dean's knees flew up automatically and he tucked his legs up to give Castiel as much latitude as possible. The fear of each hot wave which consumed Dean's body and snatched strength from him made him tense up. He felt lost in this tumult of pleasure and the anxiety of these unknown heights. He wanted to come so badly, but he was afraid of coming too, for he knew it would be so hard and long that it would leave him absolutely breathless. Castiel smiled gently at him and placed one warm palm on Dean's stubbly cheek, his thumb stroked over his skin carefully.

"Let go... I've got you. I'll hold you... don't be scared. Come for me, Dean, come...," Castiel panted, his voice dark and husky, overlaid with arousal – just hearing the sound of it made Dean scream with guttural outcries of ecstasy... Dean squinted his eyes shut, listening to his own high-pitched, frantic moans and sobs intermingling with Castiel's. He was a mess, but he couldn't stop riding Castiel's strokes with bends of his hips, letting the pleasure _build and build_. He placed his confidence in Castiel in this moment wholly because he trusted him enough to catch him once he fell. His whole body was wincing, every muscle was tensing up. He caught his breath, as all the rapture bundled up, his sweet spot _constricted_ and _pulsated_ with pleasure as his orgasm finally got the better of him. Heat streamed through him, his cock throbbed as he came in squirts and painted his and Castiel's abdomen with come. In his dizzy state, as his body convulsed with exhilaration, he directed his eyes on Castiel, admiring how he burst with his sensual frenzy as well. The stutter of his hips gave him away, there was one last outcry, then Castiel collapsed on top of Dean and spilled into him mindlessly.

Dean brought his arms around Castiel's sweaty back and held him tightly. He listened to their mixed gasps and quiet hums in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He relished how their racing heartbeats thumped together, how good Castiel's weight felt on his spent body. He was amazed with the experience he had just made, knowing it was exceptional and life-changing for him. In that minute, when Castiel's plump lips touched the skin over his aorta and kissed it feebly, he understood the love he felt for the other man in its full extent. Slight desperation came over Dean and he cradled Castiel firmer, pressed a long-lasting kiss against his forehead and ran his fingers through his soaked through hair tenderly.

"I love you," he muttered, feeling Castiel's smile against his skin. "I love you too," Castiel responded, then he left innocent kisses all over Dean's throat, his collarbone and his jaw. Dean didn't know for how long they stayed like this, lying together in the candlelight, in that deserted sanctuary. When they parted and reached for their clothes, they gave other fond smiles and mellow looks while they dressed, and it seemed to Dean, the world had changed in between their arrival and their approaching departure. That he and Castiel were cleansed of every sin, purified through their fusion. He had given himself over wholly to Castiel, and now they belonged together in every way imaginable. Never before had Dean allowed himself to become so attached to someone. He didn't know whether Castiel understood the depth of emotions Dean held for him, but when Dean walked up to him, a shy smile spreading on his mouth, and when he engulfed him in a bone crushing hug, he hoped his partner got the message.

**TBC**

Omg I'm so sorry. I have the terrible feeling I screwed this chapter up majorly! I remember I've been struggling with it for weeeeeks, and now that I edited it and fixed some horrible sentences, I just can't help thinking it seems so clumsy! Maybe it's just the mood I'm in this week, but, oh well... I wanted to create something sweet and romantic and put it in a nice place, but, hrmmmm... T.T Let me know what you think of this chapter, will you? =) At least I can say I'm happy about the next chapter, which will be the last chapter of this story! Have a great week!


	30. Chapter 30

Uh, wow O_O thanks for the positive response to the last chapter – it was a very important chapter to me and I wasn't satisfied with it 100%, that's why I was a bit uncertain. Even more so, I'm glad you enjoyed it =) Yoicks, this is the last chapter! I'm sorry it's not even 4k long! I just didn't want to overdo it... see at the end for more (final! sobs) author's notes!

**Chapter 30**

As all good things must come to an end, Dean's stay in the rehab-center was finally over after six weeks. However, the close of this particular chapter of his life didn't feel like he was saying goodbye to anything, that he was going to miss something very dearly. It rather felt like a thousand hidden doors were opening for him, all of them promising exquisite opportunities. The treasure he had found he would take with him, he would keep Castiel by his side. His contracted tendon rupture would still be a difficulty for him in the coming months. Even though the wound had healed by now, even though his new muscles had grown and gained strength – Castiel had informed him he would have to endure a daily physiotherapy for a good while longer; a prospect Dean wasn't too fond of, but since Castiel had offered to assist him, Dean didn't really mind 'wasting' an hour each day on his health (especially not with his sweat-soaked lover around).

He left a sleeping Castiel early this Friday morning as the dew still lingered on the lawns he strolled by. He took his time to consider the scenery of this small town for one last time, watching how a pastel orange sun ascended on an overclouded sky. The light tinted the grey clouds in a magnificent way so that the whole firmament was glowing in the early hour. For a second, it seemed to Dean time stood still. No sound was audible, not even birds or the booming rush-hour traffic cut through the silence. The world held its breath, its attention solely focused on Dean, and the transformation he had gone through.

He was another man, more mature now. He was suffused with a strange confidence and a calmness he hadn't known before, but he knew they had their origin in loving Castiel wholeheartedly and being loved by him in return. No matter what lay ahead of them, he could rely on this sentiment. The cosmos examined him thoroughly, appraised how Dean would deal with coming events. He smiled to himself, blinked at the sun and, after a moment of stagnancy, he took another step forward. Everything around him seemed reanimated, and he embraced life with open arms. He was prepared for anything.

When he had come here one and a half months ago, he had been crushed by the agonizing guilt he had felt for John sacrificing his life for him. He had burdened himself with his father's decisions and felt like he should have died, that he wasn't supposed to live in the first place. Now he comprehended - at last - he coudn't reverse what had happened. That it wasn't his fault. Meanwhile, the pain had become bearable. Ever since he had gotten to know Castiel, the sense of guilt had become secondary, and slowly but surely, Dean had started to enjoy being alive again. How odd, that a sacrifice, deriving from love, could throw you in a cave of desperation and mourning – and that love could offer you a helping hand and pull you out of that cave again. Henceforth, Dean promised to himself to be less hard on himself. He had other things to concentrate on now. Not only did Sam need a brother who would support him and save him from the darkness reaching out for him – now he also had a lover he needed to protect and guide through this new lifestyle. He couldn't dwell on his thoughts of self-hate forever. It felt like he finally dared to open his arms and welcome life and enjoy it to the fullest without the constant fear of losing something precious to him; there were gusts of comforting wind that elevated him with insivible wings. He knew it would take quite a long time to come down from this high again.

Janet guided Dean through their last training session and explained to Dean what he would have to keep in mind in the coming months. She wished him well for the future, a sentimental look on her features when a knock on the door startled them and ended their conversation: There Castiel stood, leaning against the doorframe in his usual calm manner. An infatuated smile tugged at his kissable lips. He looked painfully gorgeous in his black slacks and a baby blue shirt that was hugging his muscled arms and his lean torso. His eyes switched between Janet and Dean, then he took a step forward and embraced Janet, who laughed as clear as a bell. Dean frowned and felt a fulgurant pain shoot through his chest when he saw her manicured fingernails delve into Castiel's back and how she hid her face in the crook of his neck desperately. It was a goodbye to a long-known colleague, and none of them knew when they would see the other again.

"Don't be a stranger! Come round and see me one day, yeah?" she asked, sniffling a little. Castiel nodded against her head, then he withdrew from her, appearing slightly awkward and shy as he smiled at the two of them.

"Can I have him back now?" Castiel bantered and pointed at a sweaty, grinning Dean. The hunter couldn't resist walking up to his lover and snatch his hand, intertwining their fingers gently. Janet gave them an estimating look and patted Castiel's shoulder amicably.

"Off you go! Have fun, stay sane and healthy, yada, yada, yada. Oh, and Castiel? Good choice," she said, winking at Dean mischievously. Castiel huffed a laugh and turned around. He strolled to the entrance with a flabbergasted Dean, to their new stage of life.

Little did Dean know at that point that he would have to endure another teary farewell once Karen ran into Castiel's arm, a sobbing, embarrassedly chuckling mess. A tearing sensation expanded in his chest as he studied the tears that welled in Castiel's eyes while he smiled charmingly at Karen. He said encouraging, softly murmured words, quietened her down masterfully. Dean was falling in love with him all over again, his heart melted at Castiel's considerable conduct. Though no one seemed too fond of the prospect of losing a man fancied by all, they were all smiling and wishing them well with moved expressions. Dean knew Castiel bid his friends and colleagues goodbye, and that this would leave a gap of homesickness in Castiel's heart – but he swore to himself to attempt everything in his power to become anything Castiel might need in his life and atone for the losses he brought down on himself this day. Dean would be his friend, his family, his lover. He would be everything Castiel needed.

Dean was emotionally exhausted when they finally set foot on asphalted ground and breathed in the fresh, yet unspoilt air of this Friday forenoon. Hand in hand, they sauntered to Castiel's flat, smiling suavely whenever their eyes met, a profound assurance lingering inside of them.

Sam and Dean had set up their camp at Castiel's vacant flat this Friday. They unloaded their remarkable weapons collections on Castiel's living room parquet. The whole floor was littered with guns, knives and ammunition. Castiel was adamant to cook for them a tasty three-course menu. He had said he didn't know if he ever got the opportunity once they were on the road to display his cooking skills, and then the Winchesters might never know what a great artist he was when it came to food. Also, since Dean had illustrated quite graphically what greasy meals Castiel would eat from now on, the dark-haired man had insisted on having at least one last delicacy. So, while Castiel labored in the kitchen, quietly humming to himself, Dean and Sam sat cross-legged on the floor and polished and cleaned their armory with concentrated countenances. Occasionally, Dean's eyes would flee to Castiel working in the kitchen, unaware of the placid expression in Dean's face, and he would observe him tasting his meals with an adorable pout.

Around the advanced afternoon, Castiel called the brothers to the kitchen. He welcomed them with a overladen table with innumerous plates, glasses and bowls. Although it was bright day, Castiel had lit a candlestick. He smiled, pleased with himself. Dean and Sam sat down, not knowing how to react to being treated this way, so thoughtfully cared for. Sam broke the spell when he laughed out loud when Castiel poured them white grape juice, compressing his lips feigned plushly as if he was serving them the most expensive white wine. He glared at Sam sternly, who suppressed another round of guffaw as the slightly older man scrutinized him.

"I believe the gentlemen have to operate a carriage later on? Surely they won't do so intoxicated?"

Dumbstruck and amused, the brothers let Castiel serve hot bruschetta and cold tomato salad as the first course. Dean broke out in laughter when Castiel poured himself a huge wine glass with a high percentage wine bluntly. Castiel raised his eyes and grinned roguishly at Dean when he sipped at his alcoholic beverage, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. He shrugged his shoulders and emptied half of the glass in an imprudent way that had Dean dropping his jaw.

"What? You said my driving skills leave a lot to be desired! So I might as well get drunk," Castiel bantered and poked out his tongue at Dean. Sam snickered at Castiel's insolence – Dean just wagged his head at him and sent Sam an amused glance.

"Can you get your head around this guy?" he asked. Then he encompassed Castiel's heated face with both hands and let his thumbs stroke over the protruding cheekbones, loving how the frisky look of those two blue gems quickly changed into enraptured pleasure. He gave his lover's skull a gentle tug, then he shut his lids and kissed him hard, felt how Castiel's mouth opened subconsciously as he responded to the smart slide of Dean's lips. He canted his head to one side so that Dean could deepen the kiss. His lover became lax and rigid in their kiss with arousal as Dean took his breath away with an excited smile. He parted those pink lips with his coveting tongue. Sam harrumphed, ostensibly wincing at seeing Dean and Castiel making out like this. Dean had a heart and let go of Castiel breathlessly, then he pecked his wet lips once more with a feisty grin.

"Can we please devour the food instead of each other now?" Sam wailed. It earned him a kick on the shin underneath the table from his older brother, who just smiled innocently at him and then started eating. The menu was as delicious as expected, and all of them tucked in with relish, praising Castiel for his cookeries. They took their time, which was probably wise when you were faced with three dishes. The second course was a vegetable lasagna Sam drooled over; for dessert, Castiel showcased a warm cheery pie, and it took a few minutes until Dean could stop showering Castiel's cheek with airy, thankful kisses while his partner shrieked high-pitched. By then, Castiel had emptied the bottle of wine all by himself and wore a tipsy twinkle in his eyes. His face was flushed and his lips were ripe and suffused with simmering blood. The candlelight refracted in his eyes and plunged his skin into a soft, golden color. He looked simply delightful, as if he was brimming over with life, and Dean couldn't help but marvel at him in awe. For quite some time now they were holding hands blatantly and kissed each other over and over again, nothing but madly in love.

They had spent hours chatting and eating, and in the meantime, the sun had proceeded into a westerly direction. It had sunken lower and lower, thus announcing the upcoming evening. Stuffed, they struggled to their feet and collected their weapons and the two bags Castiel intended on taking along with him. Sam busied himself with loading the Impala's bottom trunk with the weapons. He arranged them in a more tidied up manner, and placed their luggage on the second, upper plane of the trunk.

Dean waited patiently at the entrance door for Castiel, who strolled through every emtpy room with bouncing steps and a bemused shimmer in his deep blue eyes. He came up to Dean with a twitchy smile and threw his arms around his neck tempestuously, pressing Dean against him ardently. Dean's lids shut by themselves when sweet dizziness possessed him as Castiel's hot exhales fanned into his ear. He felt their chests move together with each in-and exhale. He could feel Castiel's lips move against his ear shell, how his hands ran up and down his spine, squeezing Dean against the younger man yearningly. He was simply melting in Castiel's embrace, his legs were turning to jelly. He smiled moved and held Castiel close when his lover whispered into his ear, running his fingers through Dean's short-cropped, dishwater blonde hair.

"Do you know how happy you make me? I love you, with all my heart!" Castiel whispered, suffocated with feelings. His fingertips dug into Dean's back, held on to him as if he was drowning on the open sea. Dean fell into euphoria and hid his face on Castiel's shoulder as he cradled him in his arms. He kissed the sensitive skin behind his jaw bone lengthily, breathing Castiel's clean, comfortable scent in. What an exuberjant joy seized him as he considered himself fortunate to receive Castiel's unconditional love. He was his lighthouse that illuminated the way to the safe shoreline, that guided a shipwrecked sailor in the middle of the darkest night; he was the fixed star Dean could rely on. He couldn't resist clasping Castiel's back of the head and ruffling his hand through his warm, raven black hair. He felt him becoming lax against his chest.

"I share that sentiment," Dean said with a sly grin, chuckling when Castiel's elbow hit him against the rib for that unemotional statement. "Alright, alright! I love you too!", he added with a laugh, then he became serious again. He disengaged a bit from his partner so that he could look him straight in the eye. He bent forward and kissed his forehead, the tip of his sharp nose and finally his lips, eliciting a sigh from Castiel as they kissed each other woozy. He tugged the front of Castiel's shirt in a fist, drawing him in as their tongues slid sensually slow together. When they parted, Dean's head was swimming, he was so inebriated with Castiel. He carefully cupped his lover's cheeks and held his face in his hands as he studied him attentively. He felt touched by the everlasting suaveness in Castiel's eyes as the blue orbs scanned his face in return.

"Are you ready for this?" Dean asked quietly, solicitude seeped through his words. Castiel closed his lids and leaned into one of Dean's palms sensually, smiling, seized with devotion. Dean was speechless, he couldn't believe how beautiful Castiel was, in every way imaginable.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Castiel responded – when he opened his eyes, they were glowing with waggishness. He disengaged from Dean and smirked, shoving him out of the entrance to close the door behind him. Then he grinned broadly, smacked Dean's ass with gusto and ran past him with amused snicker.

"Move your lame ass, Winchester! Don't let those weeks of hard training count for nothing!"

Gobsmacked, Dean gazed after his cheeky boyfriend, baffled by his impudence. Then he startled out of his thoughts and laughed as he followed Castiel outside, running behind him along the corridor. They were both laughing and yelling, filled with a sudden frenzy of elation.

"Just you wait, my friend!" Dean threatened, but he was giggling as his hands finally caught Castiel and tickled his sides mercilessly until his partner hiccuped with laughters. Sam already sat in the backseat of the Impala, rolling his eyes at the silly lovebirds tease each other – nevertheless, he looked suspiciously like he was suppressing a dorky grin.

…

An indescribable joy permeated Dean wholly, raced up and down his spine, as he saw the sight he had dreamed of oh so many nights. He turned his head as he shifted up a gear and stepped on the gas, smiling at his front-seat passenger. His cheeks already hurt from smiling, grinning and laughing all day long. Blue eyes caught his, a fond smile appeared on ripe, pink lips. Castiel sat next to him, riding shotgun. It had been a surprise for Dean that Sam passed this opportunity to Castiel nonchalantly – but then again, the younger Winchester had dug in the three-course menu with zest. The full stomach might have been the explanation why the giant was splayed out in the backseat, snoring loudly and sleeping the food coma off.

Currently, Dean was driving along an endless highway to Bobby's– the street was surrounded by fir forests to their left side, and green crop fields to their right. Dusk was falling, the taillights of the cars ahead of them began to shine strongly. The moment seemed magical to Dean: How the first, white stars appeared on the pale blue firmament above them, how the sun went down on the unreachable horizon in front of them... Condensation trails of airplanes garnished the sky like fine ribbons; they were refracting the vivid colors of the setting sun. For a fleeting second, Dean allowed himself to observe the mellow expression that dwelled in Castiel's eyes. His lover regarded the scenery with delight and smiled secretly to himself. It was just like Dean had imagined, and his chest tightened with love for the other man. The radio was playing a quiet song, underlined the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded them. Dean concentrated on the road again and listened to the song, Sam's snoring, and Castiel's calm breathing. The song spoke to his heart, tugged at it and made him hunger for every future day he would spend with Sam and Castiel.

_I see it around me, I see it in everything_

_I could be so much more than this_

_I said my goodbyes, this is my sundown_

_I'm gonna be so much more than this_

He breathed deeply for several times, trying to soothe his frayed nerves as he was suffused with such happiness, it made his eyes well up with tears of joy. He laughed to himself, wagged his head about his mushiness. And yet his hand reached out for Castiel's blindly, finding it and intertwining their fingers with each other. He felt Castiel's burning eyes on him, how they examined him with nothing but concern and attentiveness.

"What is it?", he heard his lover ask. Dean smiled and squeezed his hand tenderly.

"I was just thinking... remember when I told you I'm not your knight in shining armour? That we won't ride off into the sunset? Well, we kind of do that now, anyhow!"

He and Castiel erupted into soft chuckling. Both of them sounded slightly hysteric to Dean, they were so wrought up with nervousness and bliss of love. When they had calmed down a little, Dean felt Castiel squeeze his hand too – then Castiel uplifted Dean's hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it affectionately. For a moment, their eyes met and studied the other, tenderness lingered in their gazes.

"I'm glad we do," Castiel murmured against Dean's skin, then he kissed his hand again. Dean was blushing vehemently, but for the love of God, he couldn't stifle the happy smile which gained strength on his lips.

"Me too," he choked out, overwhelmed when another surge of euphoria washed over him.

A handful of pensive seconds passed, then Castiel spoke again.

"And now switch that station, you sap! That song is awful!"

Dean let out a laugh and sighed amusedly, leaning forward to comply with Castiel's wish. He would keep it to himself that usually he was in total charge of the Impala's radio – well, he would keep it to himself at least for today. From tomorrow on, he would decide again what they listened to. Wouldn't he?

**THE END**

Bwahaha. Mushy end, yeah, I know. The song recited in this was "my sundown" by Jimmy Eat World. Now, phew! The story is over, gasp-! I hope you all enjoyed it? I know I promised an epilogue, or that I considered posting one – it was supposed to be divided in 3 parts, and I already wrote one part of it. But then, I don't know... I was afraid I might ruin the story with an epilogue, that I should be glad I have a proper end. So, I'm not so sure there will be an epilogue posted any time soon, we'll see =) Now. To the story (I might add this part to the first chapter's author's note): There were certain things I'm not too happy with, to begin with. The plot was sometimes a pain in the ass, because I figured it out not too well and sometimes I wrote stuff that seems unnecessary in hindsight. Oh well... Garth and Ash were useful for the time I decided to write about them, but in later chapters, I totally lost sight of them and didn't know how to integrate them again (you didn't seem to be bothered by it xD). Also, this story was never meant to be so pensive and glum at times! However, I guess I could improve a lot of things and I'm proud of a few things in this story as well. The poem reciting was so much fun, and I love the image of Castiel as a trapped bird. Also, how Dean sang to him, how they made love in that church or how they decided to take it slow before they had sex for the first time. Yeah, I'm helplessly romantic! Also, I have to thank two persons quite a fucking lot: My occasional beta-readers – one from the US, which is Angelphoenixwings14, and one from the UK: Faith Valconbridge. I learnt so damn much through them, they listened to my wails about this story, they gave me ideas and tips! They worked meticulously on my lengthy sentences, corrected spelling errors... I have a huge respect for them and I'm so glad I have met them through my writing! Last but not least I would like to thank my readers – for subscribing to this story, posting reviews and writing me PMs. You spurred me on to finish this baby. And, oh, alas, I don't I will write such a lengthy story any time soon. I have to concentrate on my first novel attempt – but I'm still working on ficlets / oneshots and short, multi-chaptered stories. So I don't think you've read the last of me. Love you all guys, take care! Yours, mistofstars


End file.
